Remember Me
by mktoddsparky
Summary: My name is Sam Puckett, I'm seventeen years old, and I guess you could call me a ghost. That's right, I died. Though everyone is certain that I commited suicide, I am going to prove them all wrong. I was murdered. Seddie/Creddie, mainly Seddie.
1. Prologue

**.:Remember Me:.**

**.:This story has been inspired by the book Remember Me by Christopher Pike:.**

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* * *

_**

This is the story of a boy and a girl. I know, sounds cliche, doesn't it?

But isn't that how any good love story begins, even one involving the seemingly emotionless Sam Puckett?

Of course, this isn't like any other love story you've probably read before, unless, of course, you've happened to fall upon a tale beginning with the murder of the heroine. But you probably haven't because authors have it instilled in their minds that you can't kill off the main characters.

In any case, I've taken the time to record my story, so that I am not forgotten. And it begins with a name.

My name is Sam Puckett.

I never wanted to die. I was only seventeen on that night that changed my life forever. Now all I can pray is that I am remembered. But I will not go without the last word. I need everyone to understand why I died, to understand that everything is not as it seems. This is my story.

* * *

**P R O L O G U E **

* * *

"And did you know…" Carly paused to glance questioningly at the camera, quirking her eyebrows comically.

"Today, exactly four years ago, was an extremely fateful day," I chorused with a sprinkle of jazz hands and a mysterious chuckle. My head tilted to the side, spilling my blonde ringlets over my shoulders in a raining barrage of unruly curls and twists.

"1,457 days ago, on a stormy Tuesday afternoon, iCarly was born," Carly revealed in a hoarse whisper, a grin stretching from ear to ear on both our faces.

"Cue the celebration, Fred-fudge," I yelled brazenly, pretending to ignore the glower the nub sent my way.

Finally Freddie sighed submissively. "Cueing," he reported with a roll of his eyes and, after pressing a blinking red button on his tech cart a smile drifted onto his lips.

The Bazooka Bubble Gum song suddenly blared from the speakers set up all around the studio and a barrage of balloons and streamers burst from the ceiling, drenching me and Carly in their multi-colored splendor.

Tossing a pink balloon in my best friend's direction I allowed a full-belly laugh to bellow from my diaphragm, filling the room with my infectious attitude. Pretty soon all three of us were giggling and firing balloons at one another in a mock fight; well, I did manage to sock Freddie pretty good across the face, if I do say so myself.

Finally Carly motioned for the brunette to soften the music before exclaiming joyfully, "Well I'm afraid that's all the time we have." A frown settled on her mouth.

"But no worries," I chimed in helpfully, waggling my eyebrows at the camera. "We'll be back next week with some cool chiz and until then you can check out our website which Freddork oh so conveniently set up."

"You know what…" Freddie began ominously and Carly flashed us both a warning glance.

"Anyways, until then, cart a walrus around Get-Go-Mart," the web comedian chorused brilliantly.

"Knot your tech producer's scrawny hair with Gorilla Glue," I echoed, flashing Freddie a crass grin.

"And…oh who am I kidding, I can't top that," Carly admitted after a brief pause, a smile quickly lighting up her face. "See you next time on iCarly!"

"Bye!"

"See ya!"

"Later!"

"And…..we're clear," Freddie announced, flicking a button on his precious camera before connecting the USB cable to his laptop, no doubt to back up the newly archived data. "Great show, you guys!"

I smiled tersely and let out a sigh of relief, my shoulders slumping incrementally, "No duh."

"Wasn't it?" Carly questioned with a laugh, giving him a high five. She somehow forgot to give me one.

Freddie carefully slipped his camera in its special case, velvet no doubt. I watched, bored out of my mind, as he meticulously ran his thumb over a slight notch in the lens, a frown twisting his plump, "wittle" cheeks.

"You've got major issues with tech care," I noted, giving the boy a dull glance.

"Whatever, Puckett," Freddie mused with a sly smirk, the gesture fading into a genuine smile as Carly brushed the pad of her thumb against his palm before linking their fingers.

"You did great tonight," Carly whispered, tracing the brunette's brow with her remaining hand. Her lips pressed against his jaw-line, leaving several butterfly kisses; somehow in the last few months Shay had become drastically more...well, coarse wasn't exactly the right definition. Daring was more like it.

"You too, precious," Freddie whispered gently, his warm chocolate orbs peering into the web comedians with such love that it sickened me to the point of near vomiting.

If you hadn't guessed by now the two of them were in a committed, wonderful relationship, to my dismay.

It wasn't that I really minded them going out; after all, I'd been dealing with the consequences for six months now. The part of this whole sudden consummation that irritated the hell out of me was the changes it drew from my normally charismatic best friend.

Six months ago Carly would have welcomed me into her home without any reservations, pretending to dismiss the fact that I would immediately snatch the remainder of her meaty products from the fridge and then camp out on her couch.

Now, however…I was no longer a part of her VIP list, so you could say.

Sure we still did iCarly together and hung out at Ridgeway every once in awhile but she and Freddie had formed this impenetrable bubble thingy and after several weeks of desperately trying to pop it I'd simply given up.

I know what you're thinking: Sam Puckett, give up? No possible way, man.

"Sam, you hurt Freddie again," Carly admonished with a shake of her head, her fingers gently probing the bruise covering the dork's cheekbone.

"So? The nub had it coming to him," I told her firmly, crossing my arms in a manner that suggested intentional defiance.

The brunette sighed, clearly about to launch into another one of her 'oh so important' lectures, "Sam; its senior year and after these next two semesters we're off to colleges separated by hours and hours of land mass. Can't you attempt to be civil in the allotted time we have left?" Her tone was pleading for me to understand but the simple thought made me crack.

"I'm the only one trying to be civil in whatever twisted friendship this is," I growled, hopping off of the car hood.

"What are you talking about?" Carly wondered, clearly puzzled.

"Ever since you started dating that nub," I began, pointing furiously at Freddork, "you've been treating me like shit!"

Instantly Carly's expression darkened, "So that's what this is about. You're jealous!" She snapped.

"Of your so called relationship?" I blurted out. "Think again, Shay!"

"Maybe you're the one who changed," the web comedian hinted dangerously. "Maybe you just couldn't handle mine and Freddie's happiness so you decided to go off the deep end!"

I paused, stung by her words, "What the hell happened to you, Carls? Since when did you turn into this ice cold bitch that cares about no one but herself?" I yelled without thinking, instantly regretting the words as Carly's face crumpled.

"Sam!" Freddie lashed out, cuddling his girlfriend and pressing his lips against the brunette's forehead.

Carly pressed a chaste kiss to her boyfriend's lips before waltzing out of the studio, not forgetting to shoot an ominous glare in my direction that meant I'd better sleep with one eye open. The studio door clicked shut behind her.

As Freddie turned in my direction, no doubt to shower me with yet another reprimanding conundrum I rolled my eyes, "Don't even start with me."

"I wasn't even going to try," he admitted in a reluctant mumble, shifting his footing and chancing another look at me. "I just hate it when you two fight. You promised after the whole window washing platform incident that you wouldn't let anything come between you two. So what changed?"

"Like I'm actually going to answer that, Benson," I scoffed, rolling my eyes, keeping up my awesome Sam-ness.

Speaking of Sam-ness, I think I'll succer the nerd into fixing me a sammich with ham later. Mama loves her ham, after all, and the dork owes me. Well, actually, he doesn't owe me anything but I'll guilt him into thinking that he does, and then he'll make me my delectable treat.

With a sigh Freddie began pacing towards me…and when I say snail's pace I mean ten thousands light-years slower than a snail's pace, "A turtle could move faster than you, Freddork."

I felt a weird stinging sensation attack my heart as I looked at him, and I didn't have any clue what the hell it was; it felt sort of like a bumblebee puncturing thousands of holes in my chest cavity. Carly would call it love but I always manage to remind her that there is no such thing as true love. I mean, look what love did to my mom, and if love is that freakin' malicious, then it can't possibly be love.

"I'm, gonna, um, stay over here for dinner," he mumbled. Why did he have to look so freaking guilty around me all the time? I tire of it.

My heart wrenched again as I looked at Freddie and suddenly all I wanted to do was get out of here, away from Carly and Freddie, not wanting to see them make out again.

I mean, you know how it is. You want your friends to be happy and yet at the same time that thing in the movies happens when they totally block you out and you practically fade away into the background. You don't belong with them anymore.

And there's nothing you can do but walk away.

Through my musings I vaguely heard the nub clear his throat, "So, do you want to eat with us?" _Is he really that stupid? Carly and just practically ended our friendship and he's asking me to join him and his girlfriend for dinner. _

I looked away, trying to ignore the burning feeling in my eyes. No, I didn't want to stay. But how could I tell him that? How could I tell him that the sight of him and Carly together killed me inside? It was bad enough inviting the conversation to take place in my extremely confused mind, let alone admit it to my dorky male friend here. He couldn't possibly understand.

I shook my head, muttering, "I'll pass. Mama's in the mood for pizza down at Rico's."

Without a word to him I forced myself to move, not wanting to go away from him, but not able to stand in his presence either. My trembling form shot blindly across the room, my arms spinning diversely in front of me in pursuit of the glass centered door.

As my hands closed around the bronzed door handle, Freddie touched my shoulder, and I jumped, not realizing that he had moved across the room. I pivoted to look right in his eyes, and the burning feeling attacked my throat, worse this time. I couldn't, wouldn't cry.

"Are you alright?" Freddlina asked me, concern dripping off every one of those venemous words.

I felt like screaming _I feel like fucking taking my life sometimes, you know that?_

But it felt as if my tongue was frozen like a block of granite in the pit of my mouth, coiling like a serpent preparing to strike its prey. It a fairy tale realm I would scream and whine about how unfair my life was and how people didn't appreciate my endearing presence enough. But this was reality.

"I'm fine." _No, I'm not. But you won't ever understand that, will you Freddie?_

And so, I did the only thing I could think of. I ran.

Spencer looked up as I stomped down the stairs, rushing towards the front door, needing to get away. _Just keep running and maybe they'll forget about all this. Maybe I can go back and start over and force a smile onto my face like usual. Because if I just keep running maybe I'll outrun my problems. _

Carly wasn't here, I realized, as I shut the front door of the apartment behind me. But I didn't stop to think about where my best friend could be. I would see her tomorrow anyways, I reckoned.

I rolled my eyes as I passed through the lobby and Lewbert started hurling insults about "stupid hormonal teenagers" at me. For some reason they were getting to me tonight. Normally I could put up a wall that would deflect all insults sent my way, but tonight I was strangely vulnerable. I pushed open the front door of the hotel, making my way into the cool night air.

As I walked down the deserted street, my eyes wandered up to look at the night sky. The stars were shining brightly tonight, little bursts of twinkles in the twilight above me but there was no moon, making the streets darker than usual. As I crossed the desolate street, my eyes straining for the pizza man sign that signified that Rico's was open for business, a wind whipped around me, sending my arms to cross against my shaking shoulders, encasing the remaining warmth in my shivering form. I brushed my unruly bangs away from my eyes, pulling out a knot in the corner before resuming my walk.

Just down the street an overhead traffic light sputtered and then flickered out, shadows casting on the road, making my eyes narrow in order to see clearly and I bit my lip, forcing back an irrational stream of fear. This was just like one of those suicide or murder movies where the heroine is captured in the dark alley, I rationalized with a flat smirk, adjusting my cramped feet on the pavement.

You know, I always criticized my psychotic mother for attempting to drive away and simply leave all her problems behind. She attempted to evade the mortgage payments by stealing someone's ID and claiming to be a 77 year old man named Morris and forget her ex husband, my dad, by dating and sleeping with countless guys.

I never understood why my mom resorted to those measures, until now. _Maybe it's just the Puckett's legacy; we run away from our problems and never look back. _

I could practically envision Carly and Freddie glaring down at me now, their gazes brimming with disappointment. But I wouldn't beg, or cry; Puckett's don't sink to that level.

"Sometimes I think they'd be better off without me," I finally admitted into the silence, my breath swirling in pale patterns before evaporating. _No matter how much I don't want to admit it. _

For just a moment I wondered what it would be like to float up to the sky and leave, leave all my pain behind. I would never have to deal with anything again. I wondered what it would be like to die, to fade away from the troubles of life, and to sleep in peace forever.

Suddenly there was a piercing pain in my midsection and I fell to the ground, suddenly feeling dizzy. I pressed a hand to my stomach, and then pulled it away, seeing that it was covered in blood. I fell onto my back right on the sidewalk, looking up at the night sky as everything slowly faded away.

They say when you pass through the veil separating life from death you picture the person that meant the most to you. And that's why I was so shocked when Freddie's face appeared in my mind, and his smile, and his laugh, and everything good about him. _That's not possible; I can't love Freddie..._

I could barely see anything anymore. The pulsing blackness was closing in, tempting me with eternal sleep. A flash of physical pain jolted down my spine as my last words echoed ominously in my ears, ringing incessently until the tears brimmed in my vision and spilled down my cheeks.

_Sometimes I think they'd be better off without me._

I fainted.

I died.

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**SPARKNOTES: **

_**Hello everyone! I know, a lot of you who read this story in the beginning are probably immensely confused right now because it all looks different. What can I say? I chose to completely remodel the story, keeping the same plot line of course. But now I'm in the process of a complete editing, greatly lengthening the story as I work. It broke the 100,000 word mark, which made me extremely happy.**_

_**As for this prologue, I didn't mean to go off on tangents and stuff but the words just sort of flowed from my fingers and onto the keyboard where they were typed, almost unconsciously. The story has taken a mind of its own which I do hope you enjoy. **_

_**Now, I entreat you to read on :D**_

_**-mktoddsparky**_


	2. Part One

.:Remember Me:.

**Part One**

* * *

_**Well hello everyone! Here's the latest revised version of Part 1. Hopefully I won't have to edit this again, because it's a pain, although totally worth it. Anyways...sorry if it's all depressing, etc, but technically it's an angst/hurt comfort story so this is how it's gonna be. **_

_**I hope you enjoy this and if you have any questions please don't feel afraid to ask me :D**_

* * *

I could feel the last breath leave my body, quickly replacing by burning pain that shot from my toes to the crown of my head. Tingles raced through my muscles and bloodstream and if I could have located the reflex I would have shuddered. But, as it was, I couldn't move a single part of my body. I was a puppet for Mother Nature to control completely.

I had the weirdest tugging sensation as though my stomach was suddenly trailing behind and a moment later I shot into the darkness, the scene with the flickering lightbulb and my blood secreting sluggishly onto the cracked concrete around my cold form slowly fading away, the colors blurring into the blackest abyss I had ever encountered.

Ghoulish figures zoomed eerily around my flailing limbs, their sightless pools luring me in until I almost slipped into the never-ending sorrow and confusion of the tunnel and I swatted furiously at them. Little moans sunk out of their mouths into the very bone of my scalp, sending a jarring pain rushing through my subconscious.

"Leave me alone," I cried, terrified of the unearthly beings, the tears filling the once dry spaces in the corners of my eyes. I blinked the wet droplets back psychotically.

The blackness around me seemed to shift now and my eyeballs nearly thrust from my sockets as I propelled down faster still like a damaged kite, my arms like useless lead by my side. _What the hell..._

Agony jolted through my body once more and I grunted in pain, attempting to shift so that I could evade what felt like lightning secreting into my very bones. But my ligaments felt around a thousand pounds a piece, a definite no to my previous moving plan.

My eyelids flickered closed and then opened, my eyes widening instantly as I fought to look away from the gruesome sight before me. _Damn it, why can't I look away?_

The coal black ground groaned as little fissures cracked out, streaking across the dust like a flock of buffalos. Without warning lava spurted from the cracks, hissing in a menacing manner, the heated glow of the furnace-temperature liquid wrapping itself around my trembling body. As I inhaled sharply the gooey substance tightened its hold about my waist, propelling me purposefully in the direction of one of the crevices. _God, no!_

A demon writhed beneath the surface of the crevice, its beady gaze fixated on me. It donned a midnight dark cloak, the edges of the fabric singed by the intense heat, and a rugged prince's crown about its head.

"You are mine…" the creature hissed, crimson glinting in its irises and at once I knew what the thing was. _Satan's son. _

I screamed, a horrible screech that echoed around, reaching no available ears. It was no use to cry out down in this desecrated place, for it was ruled by the Lord of Darkness, a place no intelligent individual would dare enter, "NO!"

Suddenly a pure white light pierced the crater's crumbling ceiling, blasting a hole the size of a football field in it. The light was so intense that I had to look away, whimpering as I thrust my hands in front of my tingling eyes. _Just great! I've prayed for someone to help me and now this terrifying creature will incinerate me on the spot. _

And then, without any indictor or possible warning, I slammed invasively into a soft, cushiony material, a groan of agony escaping my bloodied lips as pain crackled down my oddly bent spine. The warmth in my core began to seep through my pores and I shivered, gathering my arms about my shrunken figure, my eyes flashing open only to widen in shock. _It's not possible...this isn't possible..._

I was curled up like puppy dog on none other than the Shay's couch, the burgandy-ish tint in the cushions faded and splattered with unidentifiable substances originating from such occasions as spilled smoothies because I dumped them on the dork's face and old grease stains from the ham I always used to devour.

I wanted to move, I truly did. But something more powerful than the desire to get up crushed my heart into thousands of writhing shreds, sending a sob of terror spilling from my lips. _What the hell just happened?_

My mind shot to first the scene with my blood spilling out onto the sidewalk and then to the demon glaring menacingly in my direction, it's curved nails preparing to drag me into a pit of endless agony.

Finally, however, I managed to shut down the disturbing images, knowing they would only cause unimaginable grief.

"Freddo! FREDDOOOOO!" Spencer called out, taking another chop at the meat simmering in the pot and howling as he slipped and his fingers slammed against the boiling hot pan, singing the skin.

"Wow, Spenc; way to go," I commented wryly, but the artist ignored me, too busy blowing on his fingers.

"What?" Freddie snapped as he descended the stairs two at a time, his face slightly pale. _What's got his anti-bacterial underpants in such a twist?_

"Why did Sam just exit the premise looking like she was about to cry?" Spencer managed to whimper as he got up from his ungainly sprawl.

"Um, hello? Mama's right here," I interrupted them, motioning to myself. But again they ignored me.

Freddie scratched the back of his neck awkwardly as his face paled further, "She and Carly got in another fight."

Spencer's lips pursed and he clucked disapprovingly, "That explains why _Carls_ exited the premise looking like she was about to cry." He pushed his burned fingers into his mouth and began sucking on them like a baby with a stupid pacifier.

"Um, guys?" I questioned with a roll of my eyes but they ignored me once more. "GUYS!"

A horrible suspicion was beginning to form in my mind but I wasn't willing to face it. I would rather divulge into an alternate reality for eternity than accept the horrific truth.

"I should probably get home," Freddie said, a frown twisting his lips. "It's time for my biweekly tick bath." He shuddered reflexively and then snagged a piece of quickly charring omelet from the pan before heading towards the front door.

I got to my feet, following the nub as Spencer shouted, "Text Carly and make sure she's okay."

Freddie whirled, nearly bowling me over. I could feel the air between our skin heat magnificently, bathing me in the glow as a hot blush crept up my cheeks. "Don't you have unlimited texting?" The dork wondered with a slight shrug.

Spencer's face flushed bright crimson and he mumbled something under his breath that I didn't quite catch.

"What?" Freddie asked, apparently having missed it as well.

"I said a hobo kept harassing me on my phone so I smashed it!" Spencer blurted out suddenly, slapping a hand over his mouth as he slinked with a pout back to the currently burning omelet.

Freddork snorted mirthfully, "You smashed your phone because of a hobo?"

"I don't wanna talk about it," the artist whined, crossing his arms over his chest defiantly.

"Okay then," the brunette male articulated with a chuckle before opening the door. I slipped through before him, accepting the rules of chivalry in this case. "I'll text Carly and Sam in a minute." He slid the door shut behind him, still shaking his head and laughing as he disappeared into his apartment.

"What, no insult for the dirty blonde?" I motioned to myself disconcertedly, swallowing hard as I made my way down the hallway, my heart sinking with every step.

* * *

**C A R L Y ' S / P O V**

* * *

I slid into one of the triangular tables at the Groovy Smoothie, petting down a stray strand of my hair as it looped over my right eye, snagging in my tenuous eyelashes. Guilt still prodded my heart every few seconds, willing me to text Sam and fix this whole mess, but my pride wouldn't allow it. _This'll blow over in a few days and everything will be normal again. _

As if to commemorate my thoughts my cell gave a pleasant little jangle, signifying a new text. Picking up the phone I scrolled through my newest messages, pausing on the bouncing picture of Freddie holding up two thumbs. Smiling, I read the new inscription.

* * *

**To: Carly :D**

**From: Tech-wiz**

**U okay? Spencer asked me 2 text U since he smashed his phone.**

* * *

**To: Tech-wiz**

**From: Carly :D**

**Y did he smash his phone? Oh well. I'm fine. Just chillin' at the GS.**

* * *

**To: Carly :D**

**From: Tech-wiz**

**Um, long and confusing story involving a hobo. Good, I was worried about U. Pick me up a Strawberry Splat?**

* * *

**To: Tech-wiz**

**From: Carly :D**

**Hm…Spencer does seem to attract hobos. Aw, love you :) Of course I'll get you a smoothie. I got the same flavor!**

* * *

**To: Carly :D**

**From: Tech-wiz**

**Thanks :) Oh, have you heard from our Sam?**

* * *

**To: Tech-wiz**

**From: Carly :D**

**Um…no. Is she okay?**

* * *

**To: Carly :D**

**From: Tech-wiz**

**Nobody's heard from her :( ttyl**

* * *

Sliding my phone closed I leaned forward a little, resting my elbows on the shiny table and resting my forehead against my hands. I couldn't really help the guilt that seared my heart; could I possibly be the reason for the mischievous blonde's disappearance?

Then again, Sam did have a habit of wandering off and partying at clubs and such vulgar hangouts, I rationalized with a brief sigh, rubbing my knotted forehead.

"You look like you could use a cupcake-on-a-stick," T-bo interrupted my thoughts with one of his perky attempts as a roving salesman. "Whole stick: Five dollars." He completed the sentence in a natural Jersey accent.

"I don't really want a cupcake," I responded wearily, running a hand through my snarled brown locks.

"Fine, whole stick: four dollars, but that's as low as I'm goin'," T-bo bargained with a toothy grin.

"T-bo!" I yelled, glaring at him for a second before relaxing my expression.

"Well then…" the dreadlocked fellow mumbled haughtily before heading to harass other customers.

Immediately remorse shifted through me and after a moment of contemplation I waggled my fingers in the air, "Fine, T-bo, I'll take _one_ cupcake. How much?" I was already digging in my purse for the correct change.

"$3.02," he told me with an excited smirk, already pulling off a cupcake and wincing as several crumbs fell on his immaculate Groovy Smoothie uniform.

"Wait…_what_?" I shrieked a little too exasperatedly and several grandmothers gave me dirty looks before resuming sipping their smoothies.

"Don't blame a guy for trying to make a living," T-bo scolded, straightening his posture.

"Rip-off," I mumbled under my breath as I handed him the desired amount, inwardly cursing my sympathetic, caring personality. Several beads of chocolate frosting landed on my fingers as I received the cupcake, balancing it precariously between my fingers.

"You know, you look like you could use a nice, cold smoothie with that cupcake there," T-bo began again, a grin stretching across his dark face. He quirked an eyebrow, waiting for my acceptance so he could steal more money from my wallet.

"Nice try," I answered with a knowing smile, scooping my pointer finger into the frosting and swiping my tongue across my skin, wiping off the gooey delight.

After doing so I removed a water bottle from my purse and showed it to the attentive employee, "I came prepared."

T-bo grimaced theatrically before heading back to refill his cupcake stick, "Kudos, Miss Shay."

As the manager passed the counter he grabbed a glinting remote and flicked on the TV to the channel 4 news.

I felt all the color drain from my face as I listened to the reporter dictate the latest fatality, my hands starting to tremble excessively. All the customers were turning to crane in my direction, their gazes alit with sympathy and a touch of nerves.

My heart squeezed agonizingly and my stomach lurched rather uncomfortably. Fighting back the instinct to puke all over the freshly polished table my clouded gaze focused on the picture of the blonde haired victim on the screen; the poor girl's pallid skin practically writhed with crimson blood and her sightless eyes focused on a spot in heaven.

The hardest part wasn't even seeing her there on the screen; the worst part by far was the excruciating guilt swarming in my head, the cruel voices taunting _your fault, your fault. _

"T-bo," I managed to choke out in a tortured voice, gripping the edge of the table so tightly I was surprised chunks didn't break off in my hands, "call Freddie and tell him I'm coming home."

* * *

**F R E D D I E ' S / P O V**

* * *

Raising the lid of my laptop I signed in using my extremely long and complicated password. Well, actually, the password is only _My-Precious-Freddie-Bear _(yeah…my mom hacked my account) but I was pretty certain nobody would hack it. And by nobody I mean Sam, the blonde haired demon.

Speaking of Sam, she hadn't texted me back yet, I realized with a short frown, pulling my phone out of my back pocket and sliding through my recent texts. The majority of the messages were gooey and lovey-dovey – they were from Carly obviously.

Sliding my phone into the crook of the tech cart I sank into the sunshine yellow bean bag, relaxing into the shifting material. For whatever reason a nagging thought in the recesses of my thoughts prodded me back to the missing text from Sam. It wasn't like the blonde to completely ignore it; well, then again, she does retain a habit of shutting me out…

"Freddie," Spencer muttered as he trusted open the door to the studio, "I have something to tell you." In his hands the artist clutched a fruit kabob, the various treats glimmering with delicious juice.

"Sure, what's up?" I wondered, my eyebrow quirking as Spencer's gaze traveled distractedly around the web-show's studio.

Spencer pressed a button on the sparkling blue remote and the TV swung out; the older man's eyes bugged instantly, "Whoa, did you accelerate the speed of the TV swing?"

I grinned automatically, "Finally, someone noticed!" I gave him a high five before shoving my hands into my front pockets. "I attempted explaining to the girls that in order to get the TV to move faster I had to raise the notch on the circuit board a few bars and…where did you go?"

"Bunny…" Spencer murmured, entranced by the ceramic animal that Carly had set on the mantel flanking the west wall just two weeks prior.

Surprisingly, Sam had helped her brunette co-host and best friend create the little bunny and paint the thing in rainbow hues. Now, it served as a reminder of the two girls' lost lasting friendship.

Then again, considering the heated argument that had taken place behind the scenes after iCarly just a few hours earlier the bunny would probably be removed from the premise anytime now.

"Uh, Spenc, what did you want to tell me?" I wondered, scratching the back of my neck as the awkwardness in the room grew.

"Oh yeah, that," the artist remarked with a strict nod, turning away from the captivating creature and scrunching his nose. "T-bo from the Groovy Smoothie called…" He paused as if to make sure I knew who he was talking about.

"I'm pretty sure there's only one T-bo within the vicinity of Seattle," I reassured the shifting man.

"What mother would name their child T-bo?" Spencer mused.

"Psychotic chick…" I commented under my breath.

"Like Nora," Spencer compared with a silly grin.

"Yeah….oh Nora," I mumbled, remembering the evening we had spent at the mentally unstable girl's house.

After watching the 86-year old (or something like that) clown named Cramps experience an aneurysm and have paramedics rush him off to the ER Nora had locked us in her basement recording studio. Her motives went somewhere along the line of _by trapping the iCarly gang forever I will have friends and a great life. _

"Did she ever get out of prison?" Spencer wondered with a tilt of his head.

"Actually, it was the mental ward," I corrected with a smirk. "Apparently six months later she slugged a cop and they carted her off to prison for three months. So, yeah, she's out."

We both shuddered in sync, dropping the subject.

"What did you want to tell me…_again_?" I asked for the third time.

"Oh. T-bo called to tell me to tell you that Carly told him to tell me to tell you that she's coming home to talk to you," Spencer blurted out in one breath, leaving ragged gasps to escape not far behind.

"Um…_what_?" My eyes squinted in confusion. "Slower please."

"Ugh," the artist moaned melodramatically. "Carly…told…T…bo…to…call…me…to…tell…you…that…Carly…wants…to…come…home…and…talk…to…you."

"So why didn't T-bo just call me?" I questioned.

Spencer paused to give me a pouty face expression before wailing, "HOLY GUACAMOLE!" Then he stomped down the creaky stairs, leaving me to my lonesome.

With a chuckle I sank back into cobalt bean bag chair, the color of Sam's baby blue eyes – _ugh, now why did I have to go and think that?_

Clicking on a few keys I orchestrated several special effects on our latest video. A bit of lighting on the girls' faces here, some whirling disco lights for random dancing extrapolation there. And still, no matter how much I tried to distract myself with these monotonous actions I couldn't seem to stay away from the look in Sam's eyes.

Words almost couldn't describe it. And for a second I wondered if the blonde co-host had even been aware of the monster squirming into her independent, strong soul.

_When did it even begin?_

Shuffling down a list of every iCarly episode we'd ever filmed I paused and then selected the very first one. Sure we'd all been squirts then but I had a random desire to see the old light in the blonde's eyes.

And there it was, extremely prominent as she yelled out a brazen face and then gestured towards the next guest on the new web-show. An intolerant, carefree expression that determined Sam's personality crossed her face with every hilarious statement.

Flipping forward in time a bit I paused on a particularly memorable episode; it just happened to be the evening that Sam revealed I hadn't experienced my first kiss yet. Sure, it had stung then but now it was entirely laughable.

Pausing on a specific clip of Sam just as she revealed my dreaded secret I pondered her face. The mask hadn't set in yet but there were traces of shadows crossing her eyes even then, accompanied by mirth and surprisingly, a touch of guilt for spilling the beans.

_She felt guilty for hurting me? _It was an idea that had never really occurred to me before.

Finally, after staring at the paused clip for several minutes I selected the next episode that occurred a week after that specific evening.

And there it was.

The mask itself; it covered the cracks and fractures splitting the blonde from the inside out cleverly, refusing to show a hint of the distress she'd probably been going through. The smile crept along Sam's face, yes, but within the grin there were concealed bits and pieces of insecurity.

Flicking back and forth between those two episodes I concluded that that was when everything had started to change, as with a snowball effect. _Was it really that?_

The _that_ I was referring to was the episode on the fire escape. A flush suffused my cheeks just thinking about it. _It couldn't have been our kiss that changed her. _

Determined to push the memory to the wayside I skipped a number of episodes, pausing on another significant filming. The evening Carly and I announced that we'd begun dating. I'd been glowing so much that I hadn't even bothered to be concerned with Sam.

What I saw nearly split my heart in two.

While Carly and I presented one another with a chaste kiss in front of the camera our blonde counterpart lurked to the side, nearly obscured by the wheel of hammers. Her eyes no longer glimmered with complete confidence; no, now they glinted with desperation and a forced confidence. And filling them were a liter of tears, tears I knew she wouldn't have allowed to spill.

She looked…haunted.

"God, Sam," I whispered, pressing a hand tightly against my wrinkled forehead. "Did we really do this to you?"

The studio door creaked open with muted protest in that very instant and Carly stepped through, her eyes red rimmed. A choked sob emulated from her throat, "Freddie, we need to talk."

* * *

**S A M ' S / P O V**

* * *

Slipping through the half-open door leading to my room I flopped on my bed, attempting to throw the covers over my shivering form but I couldn't touch the rumpled fabric. My breathing etched up a few notches as I stared up at the ceiling of the bedroom, following the random pictures I'd doodled into the plain white wall.

From second grade I'd stood on a ladder and traced princesses lounging in ivy-infested castles with daring princes dashing to save them. True love's kiss and all that crap.

In seventh grade I'd painted skulls and scrounging pirates festering with sores and grasping for treasure.

And last year I'd taken hours to perfect a picture of my eyes, the oceanic orbs that I'd inherited from my mother and from my grandmother to my mother and so on. However, halfway through I'd decided to stop because I was too damn lazy.

Six months later I'd picked it up, after Carly and Freddork had started going out.

The drawing had taken on a life of its own and become more complex than I'd ever imagined.

Now the eye on the left resembled my old life in essence: joy beamed from every glint of the sky blue orbs accompanied by brilliancy and yet immaturity in the same glance.

The eye on the right represented my new life as of the night I'd confessed that Freddie had never kissed anyone. Within the oceanic surface blossomed intense maturity and sorrow, more sorrow then I could have ever imagined carrying. Below that crested unimaginable guilt and a quiet solicitude, a trait I'd learned to counteract my rambunctious outbursts.

This drawing was the only thing I would miss, the one insight I desperately protected from the outsider's piercing commentary. It represented _me, _something nobody else should pertain the right to view, ever.

And yet, as I lay here now, I entertained the frightening notion that it might be time to allow my closest friends to glimpse the drawing and contemplate who I was really was.

Because as much as I didn't want to admit it, something drastic had taken place tonight, something I really didn't want to think about. Something that would crush and purge the land of old simplicities and replace them with heartfelt stretches of the blackest abyss possible.

The ring of the cordless phone jolted me from my thoughts and, tossing my hair back over my shoulders, I stomped halfway down the stairs, listening for the probable new date plans for my psychotic mother.

"What?" I heard my mom snap, irritated, into the tech device.

A mysterious caller muttered something that sounded strangely like condolences from the other end.

"Hang up the damn phone," I demanded under my breath, sinking to the floor and resting my back against the wall as my mother let out a disbelieving grunt. "Don't listen to them." _I'm still here…please don't give up on me. _

"What the hell are you talking about?" My mom yelled, her brazen tone shaken with tears. "She was just over at her friend's house! Nothing could have happened to her!"

Tears burned my vision, "Momma, don't listen to them…I'm right here…" _But you can't see me, can you?_

My mother let out a shuddering breath and I heard her start to sob harshly. My eyes widened a bit; my mom didn't cry, ever.

A second later I made out the sharp smack as she tossed the phone at the wall, severing the technological headset in multiple pieces, "God, not my Sammy."

Creeping down the stairs I watched as my mom grabbed a bottle of vodka from the fridge, popping the cork before starting to chug down the alcoholic beverage. My hand shot out, bracing my shuddering form against the wall before my limbs could fold in on themselves,

"Mom, look at me! Look at me, damn it!" I shrieked, my tone trembling.

But she didn't glance once in my direction. She couldn't see me anymore.

"Mommy," I choked out, hating myself for acting so weak in the face of danger. _You know what? Forget this! I can deal with everything myself!_

With that in mind I shot from the house, catapulting towards the refuge of my best friend's apartment in Bushwell Plaza.

A half hour later found me traipsing out of the bus and sprinting towards the lobby. A married couple entered in front of me, providing an already ajar door and I took the chance. Lewbert squealed obscenities at the middle-aged duo and I chuckled to myself as they, in turn, gave him 'you're a creeper' glances.

Spencer was glancing out through the half-open door of his apartment, his eyebrows furrowing as he glanced through red-rimmed eyes at Mrs. Benson.

"Spencer," I acknowledged, but again the sporadic adult totally ignored my presence.

"Spencer Cornelius," Marissa murmured in a surprisingly sweet tone. "What on earth is going on?"

"It's Sam –" Spencer's voice faltered and he inhaled shakily.

"I'm right here!" I denied the obvious. "I'm not gone!"

"Oh my…" The maternal figure remarked sadly, shaking her head. "Does my Freddie-bear know?"

_Know what! _My heart screeched, unwilling to accept my devastating future, but my mind had already grasped the situation.

"No. Carly's gone up to tell him right now," Spencer explained, his eyes beginning to water. "I just…I just can't believe that –"

"None of us can," Mrs. Benson replied softly, brushing the tear that had slipped down the artist's face. "Would you like to come in for some chamomile tea? It's meant to calm frayed nerves, you know," she remarked, forcing herself back into productive mode.

"Um, no thanks. I should probably head up to comfort the kids," Spencer rejected haltingly, his tongue seemingly heavy as lead.

"I insist," Marissa whispered, her own eyes beginning to tear up. "Freddie and Carly will be fine on their own." She tugged on Spencer's hand a bit.

"Since when do you believe in leaving Freddork alone?" I remarked liltingly, my mirth tampered by the unbelievable sadness drowning the atmosphere.

"Uh, alright, then," Spencer finally muttered, reaching for his doorknob to close the door just as I slid in the apartment. I could hear the normally joyous man begin to cry as I walked across the now desolate living room.

My blue irises connected with a picture of myself resting on the newly remodeled countertop. A bouquet of roses rested there, just in front of the frame, commemorating the life of the girl in the portrait. Several cards with _I'll Miss You _on their covers surrounded the picture of me, their crinkled edges flapping from the air conditioner's light breeze.

"I'm alive," I whisper-yelled at my portrait; blinking back tears I ascended the stairs hastily.

In that very moment I saw my brunette best friend open the studio door hesitantly. By her puffy eyes and long dry tear tracks streaking down her pale cheeks I knew she was hopelessly upset.

"D-don't do this, Carls," I begged, following her into the studio to meet the concerned gaze of the nub as he rested on the navy beanbag.

"Hey Carls, T-bo called and –" Freddie cut off as he noticed the distraught expression donning his girlfriend's face. Sliding the lid of his precious laptop closed the boy asked, "What's wrong?"

"I need you to hold me," she replied lifelessly, tears glazing her vision.

Fighting the urge to hug my best friend I settled on the hood of the half-car and watched as Freddie enfolded Carly in a tender embrace.

"What's wrong?" Freddie asked again, reaching one hand up to delicately stroke her tangled russet locks.

My best friend looked up at our tech producer and I saw the need in her eyes. She needed to be first in his life at this moment. She needed to know that he only wanted _her _and nobody else, especially me.

"Make love to me," she ordered quietly, meeting his worried gaze.

"You know I can't," he responded, pressing his lips to her cheek.

"Please," she begged, desperation prominent on her face. It wasn't that she really wanted this. She _needed_ it. She needed to forget and this seemed to be the easiest way to let go of me.

"I can't," he told her, guilt blossoming in his gaze. He really liked her, I knew that, but he didn't love her and this was wrong. He couldn't give her what she wanted. "I'm not the man you're waiting for, Carls."

With a pause she looked up at him again. He was right; he was always right, "Kiss me."

With a throaty sigh Freddie obliged, connecting his pursed lips to hers and pressing their bodies flush up against one another.

From his perspective the kiss carried only guilt and fondness.

From hers the kiss carried lust and desperation, almost tangible in front of her grasping fingertips.

When they pulled apart to breathe he asked, "What's going on?"

"She's gone," Carly told him, tears streaming down her pallid face. Kissing him again her shaking hands began working on the buttons of his shirt.

Freddie gently pried her fingers away from his person, "Who's gone?"

"Sam." Just the one word came from Carly's lips before she pressed her mouth against Freddie's once more, drawing the necessary strength from his endeavoring strength.

Freddie continued to stroke Carly's dark hair, crooning soft reassurances under his breath and I felt like gagging as I watched them rock back and forth like a metronome.

They didn't look right together, not at all. Freddork treated her like she was a fragile china doll, like one wrong move would shatter her into tiny little pieces forever. No girl should be treated like that.

"Where did Sam go?" The dork asked but I could practically see the gears working at a freakishly fast pace in his nerdish brain.

Just like me he was attempting to push off the obvious until there was no denying it anymore.

Carly didn't answer, only shaking her head from side to side.

"Please don't tell him," I pleaded, tears rolling down my own face by this point. "I'm right here." _I just can't talk to you anymore. _

"Carly, where did Sam go?" Freddie's voice broke on my name and I knew that he was catching on, fast.

"Sam is…" Carly pressed her lips against her boyfriend's for a bit of strength necessary to spill the truth. "Sam is dead."

And with a shriek of unendurable agony my body exploded through the window into the night sky, her words echoing horribly in my mind like the muted thuds of a battered drum.

Why did it hurt so bad?

Because it was the truth and there was absolutely nothing I could do about it.

* * *

Somehow I ended up tracing my footsteps back to the sight of my death.

Police tape blocked off the section of the sidewalk adjacent to Rico's Pizza and several sheriffs patrolled the dimly lit area. Crowds gathered even now, their various expressions extremely curious, baffled and frightened by the turn of events. Several mothers wailed laments into the night sky, nearly blocking out the annoying whine of the sirens and flashing police lights.

Helicopters from the Channel 8 News whirred overhead and a multitude of paparazzi cluttered the gruesome sight and I attempted to block out the noise. That is, until I heard an all too familiar voice crying out.

"I want to see her body!" Carly screamed almost demonically, shadows flitting ominously in her vision as she struggled against the onslaught of innocent bystanders. Freddie clutched her left hand tightly in his, his face devoid of all color.

"Miss, I'm afraid nobody is allowed past the yellow tape," a cop denied her access calmly.

"Does it look like I _care _about the yellow tape?" The brunette co-host screamed, trying to squirm around the imposing figure.

Freddie didn't utter a single syllable contradicting his infuriated girlfriend like he usually would have done. In fact, the tech producer looked too weary to move a muscle.

"Carls, maybe it's best if we just go," Spencer put his personal opinion on the matter in weakly.

"No," my best friend roared, turning her panic-streaked gaze on the officer. "Please, she was my best friend…I have to see her. P-please."

The cop's eyes softened a bit, "Fine, but only a brief look."

He parted a section of the yellow Caution: Crime Scene tape for Carly, Freddie and Spencer to pass through before sealing the area back off. I followed behind them, unseen.

When I first spotted my lifeless body just lying there on the stone cold cement, my limbs curled unnaturally, my skin fading to a dusty gray and my clothes stained with my own blood, I couldn't even think.

What was there to possibly think in a moment like this? I mean, I don't suppose they make _What To Do When In Ghostly Form You Spot Your Deceased Earthly Body for Dummies._

Carly wasn't crying either, I realized as I sunk to the ground beside my crumbling earthly body. Or perhaps I was simply blocking out her sobbing; after all, I'd muted the cries of the frenzied crowd and whirring of the helicopter.

"I'm dead," I finally admitted as my fingers curled around the blood encrusted blade lying a foot away from my crumbling body. _The knife I used to stab myself._

I didn't remember carrying a knife from the Bushwell Plaza premise, nor piercing my fragile flesh with the tip of the shining blade. I could only recall the blood seeping from the gaping hole in my chest as I collapsed onto the ground and how the hazy stars burst like dazzling crimson comets in my vision.

Then again, my life had been totally crappy up to this crucial point, so it would only make sense that I would stab myself in the heart the first chance I got.

I just couldn't seem to comprehend that I wouldn't be around anymore. I would never giggle over meaningless things with Carly or shoot Freddie in the eye with chocolate pudding. I would never boast over my incredible bullying skills or mock Spencer's flabby muscles.

They would have to go on without me.

Shouldn't I have beamed up to Heaven though? I shouldn't be here right now, I figured as my chest tightened. The memory of the terrifying pit of Hell and the demons reaching out to drag me into the depths of the hopeless abyss sent chills down my spine.

God didn't accept those who committed suicide. I was banished to hell to dwell in agony and depression forever.

Suddenly it seemed hard to breathe. Clutching at the space where my soul used to reside I inhaled shakily, choking as the air resisted my attempts to fill my lungs with oxygen.

I didn't want to go to hell. _Can God really banish me to this horrible fate?_

Thinking about the circumstances, however, I could hesitantly admit I deserved it.

The temperature of the air decreased as the wind whipped fiercely through the throng of strangers. Time passed in whichever quantity it preferred and eventually Carly, Freddie and Spencer stood and stretched their stiff muscles, preparing to leave my corpse.

"I'll miss you, Sam," Carly whispered into the silence, no tears clotting her tone now. Her voice simply seemed…lifeless, like suddenly the purpose to life had vanished.

Spencer gathered his little sister in his arms and she shivered gratefully into his chest, "Later, Sam." His cheeky tone reminded me of little kids when they're forced to say sorry to the bully of the school.

Freddie remained several moments after the two siblings had departed. His face remained vacant but fire swirled within the chocolate depths of his irises, pain brimming in his bleak, dark pupils.

The nub's fingers stretched out finally, pressing against the cold skin of my deceased corpse, his lips chattering as the breeze picked up in velocity.

"We did this to you." The words popped out uncertainly and yet sure from his lips, laced with guilt.

"No," I responded even though he couldn't hear me, "I did this to myself." _Habit, I guess._

"And now you're dead," he confirmed, his hands shaking as they caressed the pallid skin of my deceased cheek, leaving burning trails on my own ghostly form. I could almost feel his touch from here and oh I longed for it.

"I just can't believe it," he concluded with a brief show of vulnerability before returning to the chilly demeanor of before. Tears pooled in his eyes and dribbled down his cheeks, splashing inaudibly on the cement. "I can't believe that you're gone forever."

"Me either," I confessed, fighting the urge to reach out and try to touch him. Instead I slumped against the wall behind me, relaxing into the prickly material of the sturdy brick. "I was so stupid, leaving you all." _Even though I don't remember thinking about committing suicide let alone killing myself. _

Finally Freddie got to his feet, shooting my corpse a last smile before disappearing into the night. My heart screamed for him to stay with me but I didn't voice the thoughts.

I wasn't sure how long I sat there beside my body, my breath emitting in short puffs as the temperature dropped to below forty. I guess I just couldn't piece together the desire to budge from the spot.

With every beat of my heart I was only reminded of the fact that hell awaited me, that my time was strictly measured.

Soon I would be leaving them all, not like they'd know it.

To them, I was already gone, never to return.

_Thump. _"I'm dead," I whispered once more.

_Thump. _My fingertips brushed the eyelids of my corpse, sliding them closed so I wouldn't have to watch the sightless gaze anymore.

_Thump. _My fingernails dug into my glimmering skin, gouging through the layer and burrowing into muscle and blood cells.

_Thump. _One less moment on Earth.

_Thump. _Soon my heart would cease beating.

_Thump. _"I'm so sorry," I apologized into the silence, not exactly sure who I was apologizing to in the first place.

_I'm so sorry I did this. _

* * *

The brunette crossed the loft silently, her limp form slowly making its way towards a specific spot. The tears had ceased to flow several hours beforehand but dry tracks still marred her porcelain skin.

"I'm sorry, Sam. I have to forget about you." She choked out the words just above a whisper, her fingernails scratching at her arms in a vague attempt to drive out the demons infesting her heart.

With several more steps she'd reached her destination.

Tortured russet eyes gazed at the ceramic bunny on the dusty shelf.

A hand swept out and connected with the priceless figurine, knocking it to the floor.

The ceramic bunny shattered into hundreds of tiny pieces, scattering over the cold ground before vanishing from sight.

The creature's ocean blue eye rolled to a stop, glancing up at the brunette as she slumped to the cry, sobs crashing over her in tremendous waves.

* * *

**SPARKNOTES:**

_**Well, I hope you enjoyed that! **_

_**On other news, I watched iDo today when it first came out and thought the whole meatball golf thing between Sam and Freddie was so adorable! Not to mention that the promo came along for iStart A Fan War and it's coming to a tee: Seddie or Creddie! I can't wait, although I'm probably going to be disappointed by the outcome.**_

_**Now, please read on! :D**_

_**-mktoddsparky**_


	3. Part Two

Remember Me- Part 2

_**Recently edited: June 21, 2010. **_

**_Sorry for all the emails you're getting saying that I'm making the thirtieth chapter again and again and again. In order to revise this story I have to delete the old chapter and put in my revised one._**

_Sam leaned her head on Freddie's shoulder almost without thinking. Her brain was nearly numb from the waves of sleep that wrapped around her. She let out a yawn, and settled closer to Freddie, feeling strangely safe. She hadn't felt like that in a long time._

_Suddenly, Freddie realized that Sam had lied her head down on her shoulder. He didn't want to shake her off, she looked so comfortable there. But common sense told him to shake the blonde-headed demon off him, so that there wouldn't be any complications between them._

_Sam let out a groan as Freddie shrugged a little bit, propelling her head off of his shoulder. She gave him a short glare, too tired to hit him right now, and then she settled her head down on the couch arm, feeling suddenly cold without his arms around her…_

I blinked for the 18,367,012 time that night, my eyelids gliding open reluctantly as the morning sun pierced briefly through the curtains on the far wall. I winced, a yawn slipping past my pearly whites as my arms stretched up and out, straightening out the muscles that made up my biceps and triceps. _You really have to stop this invisible person hunting, _my mind scolded and mentally I brushed away the thought, not wanting to deal with it right now. The past several days I'd mainly been hanging around the loft, keeping check on Spencer, Carly and Freddie after the whole news broadcast thing. Don't ask me why I felt it necessary to check up on them; I guess I just felt really guilty over the fact that I was causing their distress. _God, you're turning into a weak, girly sap-face _I realized with a grunt of displeasure, shifting my position on the couch.

Brushing the sleep from the corners of my eyes I let out another long yawn, my tongue flapping out of my mouth like my rabid cat Frothy's; I'd been too frickin' dishelved since Carly's big annoucement several days ago to drift off to sleep, no matter how much I wished to float off into dreamland. Maybe it has to do with the whole living dead thing; after all, zombies don't have to sleep, I reckoned, my lips pursing in a disapproving expression; and if zombies don't have to catch a few winks then maybe I'm cursed with their horrendous disorder of hard-to-fall-asleep-ica. Then again, Frankenstein wasn't exactly a full living being, he came from the dead and yet he fell asleep every single, damn night. Well, at least if I had a hard time sinking into the dark abyss of rest-time then I could hunt down more of my invisible comrades, I thought logically, swiping my unruly blonde snares away from my plump lips, regulating my breathing in-and-out, in-and-out. So far I hadn't had any luck; it was almost as if that blonde bimbo I'd met my first night as _this _had tossed them all on a train in a crappy renegade band, leaving me to battle everything out alone. Yep, that was probably it, I concluded. _Damn it. _

I was quickly running out of time; the mysterious note signed NP had clearly stated that I only had two weeks to figure out this whole mess and now only a week and a half remained and I was still clueless as ever. _Damn it, _I swore again, thrusting myself off the couch and experiencing momentary vertigo as the blood rushed to fill the arteries in my legs, making me sway on the spot. I wondered that if I tripped and fell over then would I hit the floor or sink right through it. Then again, if I could sink through everything then I would have fallen right through the comfy cushions on the couch a couple days ago. Maybe it was like the whole Remember Me story by Christopher Pike where the girl believes that she can sit down and do different stuff and so she can, but when she doesn't believe in something like flying, she can't accomplish the task. _This invisible person thing is confusing, _I thought, rubbing my forehead to get out the numerous wrinkles marring the clear skin there.

As I ran a hand through my silky blond hair, images of my first morning as an invisible person rushed in, the very moment that Carly had told Freddie that I was dead, gone, deceased. I didn't want to think about them - they would only succeed in making me puke or something - but it didn't look like I had a choice:

"_Freddie, Sam is dead." Carly took in a shuddering breath as though what she had just said was news to her as well, the tears brimming freely in her coal black orbs. I was surprised that she was even this calm. Yesterday afternoon she had been sobbing her eyes out over me. __Suddenly, the light in Freddie's eyes seemed to fade away and die. I touched his cheek as the tears filled his eyes. The familiar agony of heartache tore at me. I wanted more than anything to comfort him. I didn't want to see him hurt like this._

_Carly wrapped her arms around Freddie's neck and started crying a little as she buried her head in his chest, "Why did this happen?"_

_I looked at Freddie, expecting him to give his girlfriend a comforting answer, but he didn't respond. His eyes were still fixed into empty space, and he began to shudder, tremor after tremor racking his muscular frame. A tear rolled slowly down his cheek, "You're lying to me."_

_Carly looked at him, stunned, the clear droplets streaking like pellets down her pale, porcelian cheeks,"I'm not lying to you." __My hand was still on Freddie's cheek, and the tears filled my own eyes as I saw the pain he was in. And it was all my fault. Why did I have to die? If I had been paying more attention to my surroundings instead of gazing up at the moon then maybe I would be alive right now!_

_Freddie shook harder, and he pulled out of Carly's embrace, shaking his head as the tears began to stream down his face. I wrapped my arms around him, trying to comfort him, but knowing that I couldn't do anything. Suddenly I saw something snap in his eyes. He couldn't hold it in any longer, "YOU'RE LYING! SHE CAN'T BE DEAD! SHE CAN'T BE DEAD!" He choked back a sob._

_I held him tighter, the tears spilling down my own cheeks. I wished that I could take away all his pain. I would rather suffer in eternal hell than see him go through this when I was helpless to do anything. I touched his cheek gently, looking into his tear-filled chocolate brown eyes that I loved, and I choked out, "I wish she was lying, Freddie. I wish she was."_

A tear trickled down my right cheek, moseying down past the crook of my nose and I wiped it off, shaking my head in exasperation at myself. I wasn't about to start crying. It would do no good to cry, I reminded myself rather harshly, spinning a lock of my golden hair around my pointer finger, my oceanic orbs scanning the Shay's living room for any sign of activity. I had to get up and try to make things better. _But I can't_, my mind argued, _I can't do a single damn thing. God why did this have to happen to me? I didn't do anything. I was a victim, a pedestrian, an innocent person._

_Oh stop moaning like a love sick fool, _my rational thoughts interuppted my little pity party and I brushed any remainder of wetness from beneath my heavy eyelids, sweeping at the dark bags signifying my lack of recent sleep. I ran a hand slowly down my face, my fingers almost clawing at my skin, leaving surface wounds dotted here and there on my forehead, cheeks and jaws, blood spilling out of the narrow cuts. I attempted willing myself to move, my mind shouting obscinities at my frozen form, but I didn't budge an inch. I just lay there listlessly, not caring what happened to me anymore. I mean, I'm dead. Nobody can hurt me anymore. I am invincible.

Suddenly I heard footsteps leaving soft pitter patter echoing noises, the sounds slightly muffled as though the individual was wearing a pair of slippers and I turned my head to see Spencer limp slowly out of his room, his expression vacant and uncaring, his form clothed in nothing but ducky boxers, their little eyes pools of mischief. But he didn't look like Spencer. The Spencer I knew was full of child-like joy and he was always ready to bound around in a fantastic imitation of a golden retriever to find ideas for new sculptures such as his buttery Toasty the Baker and his robot made completely out of spatulas. That one drove Carls up the wall, I remembered with a slight chuckle. The Spencer I knew would always make the most mundane things catch on fire, such as radios and carrots and all his fish and he would make random meals like spaghetti tacos and waffly-candly-cereally smoothies.

This Spencer just looked….lifeless. Like there was nothing to find joy in anymore. Something dawned on me, and I covered my mouth, horrified with myself. I was the cause of this, this depression that was seizing all of them. _I DID THIS!_ Why are they suffering for me? I don't deserve it, and I most certainly don't need it. It only makes me feel guilty.

I watched as Spencer crept sullenly into the kitchen, his fluffy blue slippers dragging on the lineolium tile as he opened various cabinets, reaching for a flat pan that is often used to make omelettes and scrambled eggs and a salt shaker, followed by a flat spatula and his huge oven mits with little geese and the fork and spoon and the cow that jumped over the moon stitched into the white fabric, a border of red encircling the stitched pictures. My mouth began to water imminently at Spencer turned on the burner, grabbing a very familiar package from the back of the freezer where Carly had probably hid it from me. _He's making pancakes and bacon!_ I got up slowly and drifted into the kitchen. If there was one plus to being dead, it was that you could fly. Now my feet wouldn't get sore anymore. That would seriously suck if I had to walk everywhere; knowing me I'd hire an invisible cab service to cart my lazy butt around town.

Spencer meticulously began to unwrap the bacon package as I looked on, literally drooling all over my lower mouth and jaw. He sprayed the sticky solution from the bottle onto the pan as he turned on the stove to high, the flames beginning to lick hungrily up the sides of the dark pan as though they wished to partake of a tiny piece of the delectable meat. Spencer began mixing together the ingrediants for the pancakes as the bacon popped and sizzled in the pan, little specks of grease plopping unhindered in every direction. _I bet one of them is going to land on his oven mitts and light them on fire, _I predicted smoothly, the corners of my mouth curling up into a half-smirk as, sure enough, a speck of grease flung off the pan with a popping noise, landing right on his gloves and, with a sharp sparking noise, ignited them.

A loud, girlish scream emitted from Spencer's mouth as he flung the cow mitts hastily off his now barbequing fingers right towards the fish tank. Swimmy III glanced up dully at the burning mirage flying directly towards his fishy body, his eyes momentarily bugging. He darted towards the bottom of the tank just as the cow mitts hit the edge of the tank, pushing it off the edge of the counter. Swimmy III let out a shriek origonating as bubbles before the tank crashed to the floor, shattering into a million pieces.

"No!" Spencer cried, ignoring the sounds of the fire alarm initiating, alerted by the foul smoke emerging from the now burning bacon. "Swimmy III! He was so young!" He fell to the floor in a heap, burying his head in his hands as he mourned his fish.

I crept sneakily over to the pot and reached for a piece of bacon, smirking. Another plus to being dead is that nobody can see you. I can steal all that I want. I touched the bacon, wrapping my fingers around it, and bringing it to me, popping it in my mouth, savoring the juicy taste, until I realized that there was nothing in my mouth. My hand was in midair, clutching nothing. I had just been fooling myself. I couldn't touch any of it.

My eyes filled with tears as I slumped into one of the chairs in the dining area, and my head fell onto the table. I hated this, I hated all of it! I didn't want to be dead, I wanted to be alive. I wanted to be waking up in Carly's room right now so that I could come down and steal all the bacon. I wanted it all. _God, please don't make me stay like this, where nobody can see me, and nobody can hear me. I feel so alone._

I heard delicate footsteps decending the stairs and I barely managed to pick up my suddenly heavy head from the table as my best friend entered the kitchen, her eyes widening with shock and then outrage. "What did you DO?" She shrieked, her hands tangling in her messy brown locks as she took in the shattered fish tank and the smoke circling the tiny space and the fire bursting in joyful bounds from the bacon pan. After many mumbled apologies from the grown man cowering on the floor Carly set to cleaning up the recent havoc, sending little glares her brother's way every few seconds to remind him how much trouble he was in.

Immediately, I felt furious. She didn't look upset at all. Her eyes weren't puffy and red like Spencer's were. She didn't look lifeless like he did. She didn't look like she was mourning me. _Did I really mean nothing to her, _I wondered sadly.

"Now, what did you manage not to completely wreck?" Carly hopped over to the pancake mix and flashed a relucant grin right at Spencer, "Mmmm! Pancakes and bacon...well, pancakes anyways. My favorite!" She was such a liar, I fumed. Carly had never liked bacon or pancakes. She would always just let me take them both, insisting that she didn't want any because she couldn't afford to gain a bunch of weight that would only go to her hips. I never had any such qualms.

Spencer turned to look at his little sister, and there was a look of utter hopelessness in his eyes, "Serve yourself."

Carly frowned, "Why are you acting like this, Spenc?" My God, she is such a little bitch. I died yesterday, for your information, I yelled at her, wishing this once that she could hear me.

Spencer suddenly pivoted and when he looked at Carly there was nothing but cold fury in his eyes, "Why are you acting like this, Carly? Your best friend just died last night, God damn it! Doesn't that mean anything to you?" I felt like hugging him. Finally, someone is making sense. He needs to set Carly straight.

Carly rolled her eyes, and crossed her arms, "Yeah, Sam died last night. You didn't need to remind me!" She uncrossed her arms, a look of defiance on her heart-shaped face, and grabbed a paper plate on the table, going over to the pancake batter, a fierce concentration masking her earlier anger as she dolled out four circles of batter on the harshly burnt black pan.

Spencer shook his head, the tears filling his eyes. When he spoke again his voice was as cold as ice. I had never heard him this disappointed and mad, "It's like you don't miss Sam at all." He just looked at Carly for a moment before walking out of the kitchen and slamming his bedroom door behind him.

I watched as Carly began to serve herself, a lump growing in my throat. For once, Spencer was actually making sense. And the truth hurt. It was just like he'd said. It was like my best friend didn't miss me at all.

I bit my lip harshly as I spun in the air (huh, I was about to say spun around on my heels but I'm floating, so, that doesn't apply) the tears threatening to spill over my eyelids. _'It doesn't count as crying if the tears don't escape from your eyes,' _I remembered some random car mechanic dude from Wizards of Waverly Place blubbering that as one of his pre-recorded lines and yet so true. My teeth sunk into the now mutilated muscle of my lip, drawing metallic tasting droplets of blood to careen down the sides of my mouth like burgandy tears and I floated towards the door, my somehow existant fingernails digging into the skin of my shoulderblades. Don't ask me how I have fingernails; I have an awful habit of chewing them down to the nub and then calling them wittle Freddies. Get it? Nubs? Freddork? Huh, oh forget it. I couldn't stand to stay in Carly's apartment one more second. I had pretty much just heard her say that she was glad I was dead.

Anger bubbled up in my stomach like a bad case of high blood pressure and with a furitive glance at my best friend sitting on the shiny black barstool dolling out a tiny bit of syrup and butter on her pancakes I left the apartment. It was still really weird to float through things and as I sifted through the maple wood of the Shay's front door I shuddered instinctively, noting the countless shards of wood sticking out in between the two polished surfaces, ready to give someone a hell of a time with splinters...

Once in between the rooms of the Shays and the Bensons I leaned back against the wall closest to Freddork and his psychotic mother's apartment; I could distinctly make out the noises of a television show going, something about what to do if you have a rebellious teenager, no doubt. A small snort escaped my tightly clenched lips as I paused for a moment more, a question looming in my mind. What the hell was I supposed to do? I mean, obviously, I'm not alive anymore and nobody can see me and the whole mysterious slash stalker NP person didn't specify what I was supposed to do, so...?

"Carlotta Shay!" I heard Spencer shout from inside his apartment and the next second their door swung rapidly open, exposing the furious and tear-stained face of Carly. She glanced back into their living room for a moment, regret clouding her vision.

A few moments passed and my best friend still stood in the middle of the hallway looking entirely lost. As soon as her older and yet so much less wise brother appreared in the doorframe however a defensive frown snapped onto Carly's face and she crossed her arms in a defiant manner, glaring Spencer down. "WHAT!" She shouted angrily.

"Where do you think you're going?" Spencer questioned his little sister in a surprisingly calm tone, only the shaking of his hands betraying how unnerved he really was.

"Does it really matter?" Carly shot back, her mouth trembling in a thin line as the tears budded in her deep brown eyes.

"What do you...?" Spencer began, only to be cut off as the Benson's door swung open to reveal none other than Marissa Benson. The more mature woman stepped towards the duo, shaking her head in apparent exasperation.

"Why is there yelling in my hallway?" Mrs. Benson demanded irritatedly, shifting her footing impatiently as neither sibling responded. "As I always say..." She took in a deep breath before proclaiming in a nursery voice tone that irritated the hell out of me: "If you are loud you will draw a crowd, and if you draw a crowd how can you ever be proud?" She paused for a moment before launching into the end of what she considered her oh-so-important lecture. "So if there is a tussle, don't use muscle, be soft and your fight will be taken aloft. Be charming because there is NO NEED to be alarming." She put special emphasis on those two words, stamping her foot on the ground.

Spencer scratched his head as he gaped at the older women. He paused for a minute as though to collect his thoughts before muttering in a dunce-like tone, "I don't understand."

Marissa let out an annoyed groan before proclaiming in a lilting tone, "Let me explain this sl-ow-ly to you, Spencer. If you are loud, you will draw a crowd. Now do you see how the two of them rhyme?"

Spencer nodded slowly, although he really didn't understand at all.

"Good, good," Mrs. Benson applauded him, clapping two fingers against the palm of the other hand gently. "Let's move on. If you draw a crowd, how c-"

"I'll explain it to him, Mrs. Benson," Carly interjected smoothly, a dead lie I could pick up, although a good one for the normally Totally Miss Truthful. "We don't want to waste your time."

Marissa smiled, "How nice of you, my dear. Sometimes your sweet attitude makes it hard to dislike you because you threw my Freddie-Weddie's boy chemistry all out of whack." She finished in a imputent tone, glaring daggers at the younger woman. Somehow her fingers had ended up around Carly's throat and she was squeezing a little too tight for my liking. Hey, I might be pissed off at my best friend but that still doesn't give anyone else the right to hurt her.

"Uh...thanks?" Carly managed weakly, massaging her throat. I could make out slight markings where Mrs. B's fingers had clenched moments before. "Why doesn't Spencer take you inside our apartment so you can write down that..._useful..._rhyme." She finished, after struggling to find the right total fibb for the older brunette.

"Oh," Marissa frowned. "I thought you wanted to get it from me, though." She asked, motioning towards her own apartment door. Carly's eyes widened.

"Uh...well...I..." Carly fought to think of an excuse, her face lighting up as she did. "I mean, normally I would love to, but Spencer asked me to pick up some supplies from the...supply store." She finished lamely.

"What did he need?" Marissa questioned quickly, glancing at the teenage beauty in front of her, wincing as the announcer announced that her favorite show **Aggressive Parenting **had just started on the television, channel 8.

"Soap!" shouted Spencer, shooting a guilty smile at Mrs. Benson. "I wanted my soap for my bubble bath."

"SOAP!" screamed Carly, quickly slapping a hand across her mouth as she realized that Marissa Benson was watching the two of them with a rather suspicious expression. "I mean...yeah...soap." She mumbled.

"I have soap," offered the older woman, pointing back towards her apartment and instantly both siblings shouted, "NO!"

"It was a very special soap," lied Carly, wondering how she could have gotten herself in this mess. "Marco...Polo...Chika-flika...soap." She told Mrs. Benson, hoping the woman would buy it.

"Hm, I haven't heard of it," Mrs. Benson admitted.

"That's because it's really rare," continued the brunette co-host, cross that, only host, I realized sadly. I had sunk back against the potted plant in the corner of the hallway where Spencer had once tied up a photographer in order to borrow his half-naked swim models to make awards for the first ever iCarly Award ceremony. Now I could only watch this somewhat amusing exchange with shock and several chortles. "You can only buy it in...Hogwarts."

"I don't recall there being a country named Hogwarts," inferred Mrs. B, her chocolate brown eyes glinting dangerously. She was catching on, fast, I realized with a spark of horror. _C'mon, Carls, lie it up, _I thought. If this psycho-maniac caught Carls lying then they'd be dead, dead I tell you. She'd probably sit them down and make them watch a whole host of videos on why people shouldn't lie, I figured.

"Hogwarts is a company name," Carly continued in a calm tone as though this were nothing out of the ordinary, that her entire spectacle of lies was held up by a matter of toothpicks. "Like I said, it's really rare and I had to order the Marco-Polo...Chika-flika soap several months ago." Carly nodded as though her explanation were a totally serious matter.

"I see," Marissa nodded, accepting the matter at hand with a civilized jutting of her head. "Very well, Spencer, come in and I'll make us some low-fat cucumber cups. I remember how much you liked them." She enticed the artist, a wide smile brightening her face and I bit back a laugh of entertainment.

"Well...I...that's really not necessary," Spencer pleaded, shooting his little sister a death glare which she returned icily. Things definitely weren't mended there, I noted with a touch of guilt. I'd brought this all upon them and I had to find some inconcievable way to fix things before it was too late.

"I insist," Marissa crowed, seizing Spencer by his right upper arm and dragging him into her apartment. The door swung gently shut behind them, reminding me of the wacko's rule about keeping quiet.

Once they were gone Carly visibly deflated, letting out a tense sigh as the tears began racing down her cheeks. I bit back a stream of curses as she took off walking, forcing herself to move each foot precisely in front of the other, measuring a steady pace towards the elevator. She pressed the down button on the shimmering gold panel to the direct left of the door before shoving her shaking hands deep into her stone grey sweater. A hiccuping gasp emulated from her chest as she waited and I knew that if I could view through her eyes right now that I may as well be blind; her vision was probably blurred out with a litter of clear tears.

"Oh Carls," I muttered in a soft tone that I didn't often adopt as the elevator doors swung open, revealing the beige walled elevator that Lewbert was too lazy and cheap to dress up. "Now I understand why you were acting like such a bitch." I forgave her in that moment, not comprehending how much worse things could get.

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I stayed behind my best friend the whole while that she walked, which was a ways, mind you. She took the bus to Rossdale Park where she found the nearest bench, surrounded by a wall of rosebushes, the lustful red flowers blooming from every direction my vision could percieve. Taking a seat she removed a Kleenex from her pocket, and, bringing it hastily up to her nose she blew into it, clearing her nostrils of mucas. A shuddering breath escaped her mouth as she relaxed back into the hard, intricately designed back of the bench and she wiped the skin beneath her eyes. It was beginning to turn red and flaky with the constant rubbing of her fingers and bruises from lack of sleep encircled both eyes.

A moment passed in which nothing seemed to move. And then, Carly's attention was stolen as a little boy romped along; he was probably no more than four years old, with chubby little cheeks and beseeching green eyes. His hair was a captivating ginger in color. A woman traipsed slowly along behind the toddler, a smile tracing up her mouth as she watched what I assumed was her son.

To my amazement a tiny smile crept up my best friend's face as she continued to watch the child and a little gasp escaped her mouth as he noticed her watching him. I assumed the kid would run away, that's probably what Freddork would have done at that age. Carly would have smiled sweetly and waved and then walked off and me...I would have karate chopped the adult in places nobody should be kicked. But this little boy wandered up to Carly and before his mother could stop him, he grinned right at my brunette friend, patting her cheek gently. A minute later he lisped, "Smile pwease."

Carly did, ruffling the boy's hair affectionately, "What's your name, buddy?" She asked him a soft, mothering tone, traces of despondance still visible in her tone.

"Gwiffin," the child told her in his cute little baby voice, patting her cheek once more and then, to both our surprises and probably his mother's too, he planted a kiss on Carly's cheek.

"Griffin, that's a handsome name," Carly told him, but as she glanced away for a moment I know that she was picturing her ex boyfriend, Griffin. The two of them had been happy as clams until the dude decided to show Carls his pwecious pee-wee baby collection. My best friend had quickly dumped him two days later and to this day he kept attempting to win her back, to Carly's dissatisfaction. I had, on numerous occasions, offered to beat Griffin up but my sweet iCarly co-host wouldn't think of it. She hated violence, my polar opposite.

"Tank you," Griffin mumbled, a blush darkening his cheeks as he petted Carly's thigh, an easier place for him to reach.

"Griffin, hunny," the woman called out, rounding the corner and sighing in relief as she spotted her child snuggled up to Carly. "Thank God you're safe." She scooped the child up, crooning some I couldn't make out as she nuzzled Griffin's pudgy cheek. The little boy started giggling in delight and hugged his mama tightly around her neck. "Don't run away like that again," Griffin's mom scolded the child wearily, pausing as she eyed Carly, who was sitting in a subdued manner on the bench.

"I'm sorry," Carly began apologizing profusely, "He just walked up to me and..."

"Thank you," The woman told Carly with a polite smile, "Griffin has a tendency to run off."

"Uh," Carly paused, a little shell-shocked, "You're welcome. He's a sweet boy." She stopped to smile up at Griffin, who was currently planting numerous kisses all over his mother's face.

"I'm Clarise, by the way," the woman extended a hand and a minute later Carly shook it slowly, as if unsure what her next move would be. "Clarise Porter."

"Wait a minute, doesn't your husband Chris do the show on Beavcoons on channel fifteen?" Carly wondered.

"Yes, he does." Clarise's smile dimmed a little. "He's a nut when it comes to beavcoons. Why?" She questioned coldly, shifting Griffin from one arm to the other.

"My brother, Spencer, loves the show," Carly explained, crossing her legs in an attempt to ease the tension. It was so thick you could probably cut it with a butter knife, I noted.

"Ah," Clarise muttered, straightening. "Well, we must be going. It's time for Griffin's nap. It was a pleasure meeting you...?"

"Carly," my brunette friend finished the older woman's sentence.

"Carly." Griffin's mom said the word like it was a stinkbug and I shivered, watching my best friend slump back into the bench as Clarise walked away. From over the woman's shoulder Griffin gave a little wave before they disappeared into a black Mercedes.

Carly let out a course sigh slash sob, pinching the skin between her eyes as she fought back more tears. I saw the spark of unbelonging glimmering in my best friend's eyes and knew that this encounter hadn't helped to raise her fragile self-esteem. _Wow, God, are you really gonna sent everything you got out against me?_

"I miss you Sam," My best friend whispered in a voice so quiet that I barely picked it out as a solitary tear slid down her cheek, leaving a dark patch on her crimson khakis. The words nearly broke my heart.

_Sam paced the hall, waiting for a certain someone. She bounced the basketball in her hands onto the floor and back up, listening to the sound it made as it hit the polished floor. Suddenly, Freddie entered the desolate hallway, and he grinned as he saw Sam, "Hey, I have to show you something." Sam's eyebrows rose. She couldn't help but be curious. But she had to play it cool. She had to show him that his place was the tech nub kid. So, she simply said, "Catch," and tossed him the basketball._

_Freddie caught the basketball in his hands and he tossed it between his hands as he looked at Sam, confused, "Why did you just throw me a basketball?"_

_Sam shrugged, but a smile escaped her lips, "I took it from Carter Ford's locker."_

_Freddie gave her a clueless look, "Why did you take it out of Carter's locker?"_

_Sam smiled bigger, and her hands knotted together as she rocked back and forth on the balls of her feet, "Because, I think he's cute." She looked at Freddie, seeming a little nervous._

_Freddie rolled his eyes, but he couldn't keep away the shock of pain as he heard those words leave Sam's lips. He shouldn't be like this, Sam was perfectly allowed to date whoever she liked. He didn't care, or at least, he had to keep telling himself that…._


	4. Part Three

Remember Me- Part Three

_**Recently edited August 8, 2010**_

**Hey guys, for some of you that have already read this story once I apologize for all the new construction. The thing is, I wasn't happy with how I first wrote these few couple chapters in the beginning of the story so now I'm going through it all and combining stuff and adding stuff and yeah. So, if you're confused, I would suggest you re-read the story and I assure you it will be so much better than before.**

I wiped at my invisible tears as I made my way across Rose Creek Lane, the traffic clogged street paralleling the park where Carly still sat on the bench crying her eyes out. My best friends echoed in my ears like flaming darts, first estinguishing my pride and then shattering what was left of my composure. _I miss you, Sam. _Only four words, eleven letters, and yet they hurt like I was back at the dentist, getting a root canal. Hopelessness dragged in the edges of my conscious, permeating my weakly structured walls and the void of despair threatened to drag me under. _God, why the hell did this have to happen to me?_

It felt like the Big Man was up there in Heaven rolling around on the clouded and golden hills, laughing his head off at my misfortune and firing down every possible destructive obstacle he could come up with. But some part of my weary brain refused to compute with that mental image; I had for a short period of time in my elementary years attending a Baptist church and although their strict philosophies eventually drove me away they certainly had opened my eyes up to the immaculate power of the Lord.

"Ugh, I'm too tired to think about this," I gave up with a frustrated groan, rubbing my head for extra effect. The tears had since dried up on my cheekbones and I scrubbed at the raw, reddened skin in a final attempt to erase any traces of wet from my face. I didn't want anyone thinking I was some kind of pansy. A heavy sigh escaped my mouth as I remembered that it didn't matter how awful I looked; I was dead, a ghost still banished to Earth for some impossible mission and nobody could see me.

My floating feet had carried me across and down the street by this point and I traversed past the sign advertising **Bushwell Plaza: Only One Mile Away! The Best Rates You'll Ever Find! **Stumbling, I slid right through a hot dog stand and the dealer gaped as all of his hot dogs crashed to the cement below, spoiling the delectable food. Shooting to my feet I brushed at my hair, only to smirk sullenly as I recalled that nothing could affect my invisible form; I was so preoccupied avoiding the scene of the crime I'd just perpertrated that I didn't recognize the fact that I'd moved the hot dogs from the cart when I'd been so sure I couldn't touch any object.

A few minutes later I took the pleasure of shimmying my tennis shoes on the doormat of Bushwell Plaza, missing the obvious fact that the bristles on the harshly decorated doormat had indeed moved with the connection from my shoes. Brushing my unruly blonde curls back behind my ears I went to open the door, frowning as my hand slid right through it. _Damn, I forgot I couldn't touch anything. _

Leaning back against the nearest wall about a foot away from the glass paned doors I waited for a customer to walze by and open the door for me. Finally, a redheaded female came on her way donning a totally out of style beige and army print trenchcoat accompanied by baggy sweatpants and holey shoes, a Hollister bag swinging from her lower arm. _What Hollister sells that kind of crap, _I wondered, scrambling to fall behind the lady as she pulled open one of the Plaza's doors, making her way towards the lobby desk. I scurried quickly up the stairs, noting that nobody was going to hold open the elevator doors for me, the creeps. As I made it to the second story landing I heard Lewbert screaming something about "fashionless demon person-thingy" and the corners of my mouth turned up in a sardonic smirk.

When I finally got to our floor my eyes connected with the twin set of doors on opposing sides of the hallway. My original instinct had been to check in on Spencer but something was prodding me to find out what the dork was up to. _Don't call him a dork after all he's done for you, the handsome boy, _the prissy side of my brain muttered, disgruntled, and I retaliated by spitting into thin air. Sam Puckett does what she wants.

I slid right through the door to the left, my eyes widening briefly as I realized I'd just moved through a solid rectangle of wood. _Maybe it only works when I don't think about it. _It took a minute for my oceanic orbs to adjust as I entered the dark apartment, my tense gaze sweeping the room. For the most part it resembled a crazy mother's home, in my honest opinion. There were baby pictures of Freddie all over the place, on the beige and white walls, on the dark wood maple table with rounded edges (so wittle Freddork can't poke his eye out no doubt) and on each shelf of the half empty bookcase. There were burgandy curtains, moth eaten, I noted, and the carpet was littered with pieces of trash. Aggressive Parenting magazines were thrown in a haphazard heap on the coffee table, next to a plate of low-fat cucumber cups, left over from Spencer's snack. It didn't look like Freddie or his psychotic mother was home.

Suddenly I heard a strangled sob coming from down the still darkened hall and I felt my heart sink all the way to the ground, only to be crumpled into a million pieces as I stomped on it with my feet (figuratively of course.) I recognized that sob, unfortunately. _You did this to him, _my mind taunted and I gulped, finding the urge to hide my face in my hands and dart from the room suddenly inviting. But another impotent part of my mind was screeching for me to get into his room and reluctantly I took a tiny step in the direction of my probable emotional destructive. I needed to know the damage I had inflicted. I made my way ever so slowly down the hall, each step seeming to drain the life out of me, before sliding right through the door I heard the sobs coming from. Freddie's door.

I felt the tears fill my eyes again, sapping the moisture from my arteries and veins, as I took in the scene in front of me. Freddie's normally spotless room was completely trashed, like someone had just robbed it or something. The blue and silver walls were drenched with a gooey red liquid that I prayed wasn't his blood and the grey-ish curtains were ripped and left to flutter like trapped moths. The window hung on broken hinges, letting in a draft of chilling air. Threatening messages were carved into the wood of the dresser in the right far corner and random clothes ranging from polo shirts to Fruit of the Loom underwear were tossed in a careless manner on the floor, the bed, the dresser, hanging out of the window, etc. A picture frame, once holding an image of the three of us, the iCarly gang, at around Christmas time, had been smashed in, the picture torn into dozens of shreds in the carpet. There was remains of what looked like a ham sandwich spread all over the floor, the mustard leaving dull yellow stains here and there.

And there, on the bed, curled up in a little ball, lay Freddie. My heart broke in half, no cross that, a million pieces, at the sight of him. He was facing my direction, his hands clutching the shredded remains of his sheets in a death grasp, his knuckles faded to pure white. His dark brown hair stuck up in all directions as though he hadn't brushed it in days and a piece of ham stuck like a memento of his agony to the skin of his cheek. As I came closer to him I could see the tears streaming relentlessly down his face and his lips trembled with fatigue as he sobbed my name over and over, intermixing his _Sams _with various curse words. The burning feeling attacked my throat and I bit down hard on my tongue to refrain the tears as I watched him, horrorstruck. The automatic code in my mind had always told me that I'd meant absolutely nothing to the boy on the bed crying his eyes out over my death, that if he ever had the chance he would have murdered me. _Well, apparently someone beat him to it, _I thought cynically.

My whole petite form began to tremble as I stood there watching him cry over me. Minutes past and Freddie let out a choked whimper, burrowing into the silky comfort of his tear soaked pillow, a few last sobs wrenching out of his chest as he did so. I sank onto the mattress, my hands interestingly enough itching to reach out and encircle around him, to comfort him as best I could. This was whole new territory for me, I reflected as I drew closer to Freddie, lying my head down on the pillow beside him, breathing in the calming scent of his cologne. I didn't know what it was about the dork's smell that drew me to it so much but everytime I caught a whiff I drifted off into a semi-trancelike zone. "God, Freddie. Why did this have to happen to us?" I whispered in a caught tone, the tears fighting to break free, but I reined them in once more.

In this moment, which was in every way weird I admit, it was as if we were one. His pain was my pain, his every emotion bleeding into me, making me hurt more than I could ever possible imagine. I caught a glimpse into his frozen gaze and a shudder ran through my body as I saw the pools of unimaginable pain in his dark brown orbs. And finally, as though he was whispering to me to let it go, I freed the reins and the countless sobs ripped through me like a gale. Reaching out, I held him, interlacing my fingers behind the small of his back. Although I knew I couldn't feel anybody or anything, I could swear that his warmth radiated through me in that moment, his own silent unconscious form of comfort. Somehow in the course of the last half hour I'd gone from helping the tech nerd to allowing him to hold me, well, I could imagine anyways. Freddie covered his face with his hands tightly as he began to cry harder, whispering, "God, why did you take her from me?"

The tears were streaming down my face by this point, no matter how much I worked to control my emotions. Seeing the boy I'd taunted for years fall apart like this...knowing that it was my fault his heart was breaking...how can that not cause immense guilt? I'm not made of stone, like Freddicini would have argued when I was living. And yet, the worst agony of all was knowing that I deserved the agony that was eating me alive. I deserved to rot in hell for what I had done to him and Carly. "Freddie, please, stop." I cried out, forgetting that he couldn't feel or hear me now, my desperation was too great. I couldn't take him crying over me anymore.

And then, through the film of tears, I watched as Freddie choked out another sob, and whispered into the silence, "I never got to tell her how much I care about her." That stopped my tearflow and I started, scrambling to a sitting position, my hands flying to fix my hair. I know, I have a new irritation with mussed up hair.

He...he what? I felt my whole body tense up into full alert as I replayed the words in my mind over and over. _I never got to tell her how much I care about her._ In this time zone that pretty much equals the same thing as I Love You, I concluded with a spark both unnerved and yet exhilarated. The excited part of my mind I wasn't quite in touch with; obviously I'd comprehended that after our first kiss together on the fire escape things would never, could never, be the same. But still we'd managed to keep to our prowess slash prey bravados for this long. Freddie collapsed in sobs again, burrowing his face into his dark blue, soft pillow. _He couldn't have said that_, I reasoned, _I'm just hearing things, yeah that's it_. But I couldn't help but sneak another glance at the dork huddled next to me. His breathing had slowed down a little and after glancing at his unclenched knuckles and slightly relaxed form I realized that he had fallen asleep. How could the dork care about this tomboy in any way shape or form?

I looked over at the unstylishly plain white, round clock on Freddork's dresser only to discover that I had been curled up here on his bed for way longer than I'd thought. The lowest point of the late afternoon sun dipped below the cragged points of the mountain peaks, sending a flare of sunset colors flying through the air and filling this room. Burnt red streaks coupled by flaming orange and beams of yellow swirled in various directions, momentarily painting the walls in a firy spectacle, dazzling me for a brief moment. But in time the barrage of colors faded away as the sun dipped below the hills, leaving Freddie's room to be thrown in shadows. Freddie shivered underneath the tattered covers, burrowing further into the crappy source of warmth he had left. My mind nudged me, letting me know that it was time to go, but at the same time I desperately wanted to stay with the wreck of a boy on the bed just through crying his eyes out over moi. Well, I wasn't about to argue with my rebellious side.

As the dork let out a squeaky snorting sound (I suspected that he was an irritating snorer, damn it) my hands took a trip back up to sift through my dirty hair. Well, it felt dirty to me anyways. I hadn't taken a shower since three days before my death, I remembered with a tiny groan. _I wonder... _

Creeping slowly towards the off white four wood paned bathroom door I smirked at realizing that Fredlina had left it slightly ajar, just wide open enough for a ghost to slip through, hopefully. Sucking in a breath to make my body as flat as possible I slid through the crack between the door and the wall, emerging in his bathroom. I paused for a moment after inhaling gratefully; the whole room smelled like his enticing cologne, _damn it._ But I couldn't help but smile a bit as I looked around me. Freddie had a sweet bathroom, I had to reluctantly admit, for a dork anyways. The walls were painted the same dark blue and silver as his room and a pure white rim based all four walls. The towel rack was made of a silver shimmery metal, bolted securely into the wall on the middle of the left well. Two towels hung nice and square from the rack. _He's just a nerd, _I mentally scoffed. He had probably had someone work on his counter space; there were two sinks dipping in the middle of the granite countertop, the nozzles sleek and shiny. The medicine cabinet spanned several feet, ranging on the wall from one end of the counter to where my hand gripped the right side of the doorway. In the far left corner sat one of those freaky cool bath/shower things.

Stepping towards the bathing/shower thing I reached hesitantly for the shower knob, hoping, praying that I could actually turn it, and to my utter shock, my hands closed around the metal. Turning the knob slowly to the left to allow hot water to begin streaming from the bath tap I let out a victorious whoop. _Sam Puckett is a winner, Sam Puckett is a winner. Take that Mother Nature!_ I felt a smile alight my face. After calming down my ecstatic emotions I pulled up the knob, secreting the gushing liquid from the bath tap to the shower head, where it began spraying in an orderly fashion across the shower. Finally finished with setting up my shower I glanced around, attempting to figure out what I would need. Finally, it clicked. _Clothes!_ Pivoting slowly, I headed across the room, heading for the rest of the Benson's apartment, still kinda mesmerized by the water hitting the bottom of the shower. I mean, I touched it! I rolled my eyes in an overdramatic fashion at myself, muttering under my breath that I was being too OOC, coupled with a few curses, before I reentered Freddie's room.

Freddie was still curled up in a ball on his bed, his thumb jabbed into his mouth like a stupid pacifier, but the tears had sort of dried up, leaving weird sticky trail marks all over his face. Another quick glance at the nerd caught me thinking that he seemed serene in slumber. I tousled his already messy brown hair gently for a moment, wishing that he could be like this more often, more 'Chill out dude' and less 'Anti-bactirial underwear and tick baths and low fat cucumber cups wittle nerd face.' He was so uptight every single moment of every single day all the time, and it tended to kill the mood, as I so often criticized him on.

_Wait, get back on track_, my mind prodded in an irritating fashion, like a wasp of sorts, and I turned away from Freddie, dawdling on over to his boring (well, not anymore, with the countless remarks carved into the wood) dresser. My mouth twisted into a proud and yet slightly frightened grimace/smirk as I read some of the carved words and phrases: **How could this happen? Does God hate me? I feel like such a nub for letting her go off alone! **_Well, you should feel bad, dork. Then again, it's not your fault you're so enraptured with Carls._

After insisting to my brain that I wanted to open the top right drawer of the now permanently marred dresser I reached out and let out a tight breath as my fingers closed around the round circular plug, easily pulling the drawer open. The contents revealed several sets of white tank tops and plaid boxers. _Ugh, stripes_, I winced and then shrugged in resignation; it was better than nothing.

Once the clothes were in the bathroom I stripped slowly before the mirror, pulling off my three individual shirts and my khakis, slight groans emulating from my lips as I stretched out my intensely sore muscles. Who knew that being murdered could end so painfully? My oceanic orbs caught the mirror as I stretched cautiously and I paused, horror filling my eyes as I eyed my reflection speculatively, acting as though this were someone else's body, anyone but me. If I accepted that these wounds actually covered my skin then I might pass out, no matter how tough I appear to be. Bruises coated my skin from head to toe, cuts lacing across my chest and back, covering my wrists and ankles in the dozens at least. Nausea wriggled like worms as I finally noticed the wound on my abdomen. It was a nasty one alright, stretching from the center of my back to the corner right of my hipbone, blood caking each tearoff, as though the desired weapon had slashed unevenly from one side to the other. I looked away from the mirror suddenly, feeling a chill sweep through me as I fought to remember how I'd acquired the terrible wound. It was time to warm up, I decided, putting the manner to a temporary hiatus.

As soon as the hot water hit my skin like thousands of silky ribbons, lapping soothingly at my wounds, I let out a sigh of contentment, blocking out the stinging from my numerous cuts and bruises coming in contact with the warm liquid. I had thought for sure that I would never be able to do this again, after all, I was a ghost, and now it felt like I was the queen of Sheba, raised aloft in all my gold and finery. Now all I needed was a can of Peppy Cola and some ham to top it off. I suddenly winced as the water hit the deep cut on my stomach, sending pain shooting through my body and my trembling fingers touched it instinctively.

Instantly everything went black. Like, deep dark , can't make out a damn thing black, to define that little tidbit for you. The wind whipped my hair feriously and, curling my arms protectively around myself I closed my eyes as I went down, down down…

_**As I walked down the deserted street, my eyes wandered up to look at the night sky. The stars were shining brightly tonight, but there was no moon, making the streets darker than usual.**_

'_Wait a minute,' __**my mind told me, **__'I've done this before. Something terrible is coming, something sinister. But what? I can't think, I don't know!"_

_**For just a moment I wondered what it would be like to float up to the sky and leave, leave all my pain behind. I would never have to deal with anything again. I wondered what it would be like to die, to fade away from the troubles of life, and to sleep in peace forever.**_

'_No!'__** My mind screeched, **__'Stop, Sam, you don't want this. You don't want to die, you want to live and go see Freddie and Carly and Spencer. Stop walking!" __**But my feet didn't pay any attention. They just kept moving forward.**_

_**Suddenly an agonizing pain burst forth in my abdomen, and I heard a quiet laugh. I looked down, my vision flickering, only to see the shining blade of the knife pierced through my body. I wanted to scream, but I felt like I didn't have any energy left. There was another piercing pain as the knife was extracted and I fell to the ground. I pressed my hand to the wound, trying to stop the blood from flowing out of my body, but I was too weak.**_

_**Stars burst into my vision as I lay on my back in the middle of the sidewalk, my life ebbing away with every passing second. The blackness stole over me, enticing me with promises of an eternity of peace, but I screamed for it to go away. I didn't want to die, didn't want to leave everything that I knew. But it was too late.**_

My eyes burst open as a throaty gasp of total terror escaped me, propelling me back into my perpetual reality. I shut off the water, allowing the freezing air to attack my pores as I leaned against the bathroom wall, my breath uneven, shaky like I'd just run thirty miles. I had just experienced my death first-hand again, agonizing pain and all, but this time, I remembered something more, something that I didn't want to believe, but something that I knew I had had to accept.

My death had been no accident.

I had been murdered.

* * *

I was tossed awake from my dreams of puffy cotton candy clouds and walking ham suddenly and I fell to the floor with a dull crash. I winced as I got back up, my legs shaking for stability, my fingers grasping the well used mattress for support. _Why couldn't I have made myself impervious to that sort of thing?_ I looked over to see the source of what had pushed me, my feathers ruffled just a _tad_. No, actually, I was pissed about being woken up. Freddie was tossing and turning on his bed, his arms flailing in a careless, sporadic manner, his face wearing an expression so despondant that it nearly broke my heart. Whatever he was dreaming about, it wasn't good. _No duh, _my overexerted brain complained. My eyes connected with the clock on the nightstand and I groaned, slapping an invisible hand to my sweaty forehead, soiling my hand instantly. It was only 1 am, _damn it!_

I suddenly had an insatiable urge to figure out what nightmare was torturing the dork at this hour. And trust me, if his hopefully imaginative yet probably dull dreams wasn't excusable then Mama would grab a figurative pan and smack the boy around the head and undeveloped chest with it. Freddie had always said that he let things go easily, so this was clearly something unusual for him...unfortunately. _Damn it, now I can't smack him up with a frying pan!_ I had always thought of the tech producer as the strongest of the three of us, though I would never tell him that. Pigs would have to start flying around Mama's house first; _see how I incorporated that? Mama loves ham so flying pigs would make for a delectable treat._ Carly tried to be strong for Freddork and I, but sometimes when things got hard, she cracked, leaving us floundering. I was just all around unpredictable, but what else is new? (insert Sammish smirk here.)

But Freddie was a different story. Sure he had his moments where he would fly off the handle and the two of us would end up in a screaming match. These usually occured around MMA Sunday, although if I was dealing with PMS then the chances of a blowout tripled. I glanced down at the dork, smiling slightly at all the memories of our fighting. They usually ended with the dork experiencing nausea, a loss of hair, or immeasurable agony, preferably the last; I missed fighting with Freddork so much that it literally hurt. I would do anything to go back to the way things were before, but that obviously wasn't possible. I couldn't go back and redo anything; we aren't in fairytale land. So I just had to find a way to make do.

I climbed back into the bed, forcing myself to curl my still shivering body around Freddie's restless one. Wrapping my arms around his waist and sternum, I relaxed into the boy's broad back. Strangely enough, I actually kind of liked being a ghost. I mean, I would rather be alive, duh. But lying here, holding Freddie, well, this was all new territory and the teeniest part of my rebellious brain actually sort of...liked it. _Ugh, shoot me now. How could this have happened? Damn emotions. Stupid, female, volitile emotions. _The dork and I never got this close when I was alive. Well, we did kiss, but he insisted that it didn't mean anything. If there was one thing I regretted the most, it was not telling him how much that one little kiss had meant to me.

People always say that you will remember your first kiss, and you will probably never be closer to anybody in your life for the rest of eternity. I used to always think that that was total bull. I mean, people get married for a reason, right? They love each other, and they want to be together forever. You don't see a woman walk off the alter unmarried because she missed the guy she'd had her first kiss with. It isn't rational.

And yet, now, I think I understand. In this moment, here, with Freddie, I know with all my heart that I will never be able to forget him (forgive my mushiness, it grosses me out too.) He's like a leech; no matter how much I attempt to dislodge him from my soul I can't seem to. I gave my first kiss to him for a reason, but I never had a chance to relay that reason to him. He had simply moved on and acted like the whole fire escape episode had never happened, like it was a chapter that could simply be ripped out from a book. But I had never forgotten.

Truth be told, my first kiss is my best memory in life. I have always felt so alone, like nobody will ever be able to understand me, and that friends will only hurt you in the end. I know, you think that's a little dramatic, but when you live with a mom who can't hold a job and who switches drunk-ass boyfriends every two weeks and have to deal with your two closest friends dating then maybe you'd get it. Okay, so maybe the last one is true, just a little bit. But I was wrong about the first one. Up until that night on the fire escape I had felt abandoned and alone, and then, after the kiss was over and I was exiting the hallway, I had felt something new. A feeling of safety, like someone actually cared about me. Again, gag, I get it. No more mushy-gushy Sam. No problemo, mon-a-me.

Freddie had calmed down for the most part, but he was still shaking slightly. I felt something wet hit my wrist and I looked at my arm in dismay to spot a tear, Freddie's tear, trailing down the side of my cut up arm. He was crying again, the heartbroken sadness that I couldn't seem to understand. I looked at him, really looked at him, and I knew that I had to figure out what he was crying about, although I had a sinking feeling that I already knew. I touched his cheek gently, my palm cupping his velvet smooth skin, before allowing my eyes to slide closed. Inhaling sharply to prepare myself, I blocked out every sight, smile and whatever other mysterious stuff out from the center of my mind, except for one thought. _Please, let me see what the chiz is hurting Freddie. _When I opened my eyes, I let out a little gasp.

_**I was standing in the iCarly studio, but I wasn't me. I tried to look around me, but my head wouldn't move. Why couldn't I move my head? Suddenly the weirdest thing happened. I saw myself rise out of the yellow bean bag mutter something about a good web show. I set down the video camera which had apparently been in my grasp and I suddenly realized that I wasn't Sam anymore, but none other than Fredward Benson.**_

_**I felt cool arms wrap around my waist and whoever was controlling my – no, Freddie's – body wrapped my arms around Carly's waist. She smiled up at me, and I felt a flicker of unease. What was she doing. And suddenly I wasn't thinking my thoughts. I felt my head lower and my lips connected with hers. I pulled her closer, pure bliss flooding through me. We swayed on the spot a little, and all I could think about was the brunette's lips against mine. I couldn't believe that I was finally dating Carly Shay.**_

_**No, stop, I told Freddie's brain, 'Let me out of here. I don't belong here. This is totally gross.' But I was blocked out again as Carly pulled away, leaving my lips all tingly. I wanted more, I wanted to rent a hotel room and bring my gorgeous girlfriend there, and lie her down on the bed, and rip off her shirt, and…UGH! I forced Freddie's brain to stop thinking about that mature rated hotel room scene for just a moment as Carly blew me a kiss and I turned to see Sam – no, me – looking at Freddie, a look of hurt and betrayal in her blue eyes. I hadn't realized that I had looked so upset. I – no, why won't Freddie let me think? – told Sam that I was staying here for dinner and then, realizing how lame I sounded, I asked her if she wanted to join us. She just shook her head, and then sprinted for the door.**_

_**I felt a flash of guilt sear my heart as she reached for the doorknob, and my hand closed gently around her tiny shoulder. She whirled to face me, the tears streaming down her face. We just stood there, staring at each other for a long moment, and then she broke away from me, rushing down the stairs.**_

_The scene skipped to the next afternoon, after Carly had told him the news of Sam's death._

_**I fell onto my bed as the sobs burst forth. I couldn't contain them anymore, and I didn't want to. This was all my fault, all my damn fault! If I hadn't kissed Carly in front of Sam and upset her then she would have stayed over for dinner and she probably would have spent the night. She wouldn't have been walking the streets. **_

_**She wouldn't have died.**_

_**Sam couldn't be gone, she just couldn't be. He couldn't imagine his life without Sam, she made it complete. Sure they argued a lot, but that was the core of their relationship. For God's sake, they'd shared their first kiss together! And now, she was gone. He couldn't tell her how much that night on the fire escape meant to him because she would never be here again. Gone, he thought bitterly, as the tears streamed down his face. She was gone, and it was all his fault….**_

As I broke free of Freddie's nightmare I felt the tears start to slide down my face before I could stop them, tears of rare compassion and sympathy on my part. Sniffling, I buried into the crook of Freddie's neck, begging for someone, something to help me; my brain and heart and God knows what else felt shattered after that little motion picture. How could he blame himself for this? My death wasn't his fault at all! I wouldn't have stayed at Carly's house even if she had asked me. If anyone at all was to blame then it was my cold hearted bitch of a best friend who'd been shunning me for the past several weeks. How could Freddie do this to himself?

I burrowed closer to Freddie, trying to shut away the memories of that night, unsuccessfully. They resided permanently in my heart, trying to shred me apart from the inside out. "It's my fault, Freddie," I choked out through my sobs, "I'm dead, and it's my fault." But they were only words, false ones at that.

Someone else played a part in this tragedy: my murderer lurked in the shadows, waiting to strike.

_Carly made her way into the studio where Freddie was setting up for iCarly, "Where's Sam?"_

_Freddie didn't look at Carly; he was too immersed in his TV screen, "She muttered something about not wanting to wear a stupid dress and ham." He shrugged._

_Sam was just about to enter the iCarly studio when she heard her two best friends talking about her. She hesitated, her hand on the doorknob, and listened._

_Carly looked down at herself, frowning, "Does this dress make me look too…..saucy?"_

_Freddie finally looked up from his computer, only to have his breath stolen away by the sight of Carly in a revealing silver dress. He gulped, "Wow." He shook his head, realizing how stupid he sounded, and tried to regain his composure, "I mean….you're supposed to look hotter than normal."_

_Carly blushed, "Why thank you."_

_Sam sighed, looking away from her two friends for just a moment, somehow feeling like the three of them were drifting apart. But she was probably being stupid, she concluded. With another sigh, she made her way into the iCarly studio…._


	5. Part Four

Remember Me Part 4

_**Recently revised August 11, 2010**_

**I am so so sorry I didn't get this out sooner. I have so much homework that it's not even funny anymore. I swear, some of my teachers are driving me insane. I can live with a lot of homework, that's fine, but when my teacher isn't good at communication then things get a little sketchy. One of my teachers will tell us in class what's due and then two days before the class she'll send us an email saying that she forgot to give us a bunch more homework. Yeah, so that's not very fun. Not to mention that last night a virus got on my laptop account and started infecting all these files and I was freaking out because my school assignments are on this machine. I thank God that my dad works with computers because he spent a couple hours (4-5) expelling the virus from my system. I love him so much. Anyways, now that I've just wasted a bunch of time telling you about some of my issues, I should probably get on with the story. Sorry about that, now go on and read!**

"_Alright," Freddie grinned as he closed the front door of the Shay apartment behind him, lugging in some tech materials. "Who's ready to do a web show?" He set the equipment down on the floor and then looked at the two co-hosts who were leaning against the kitchen counter, his eyes lighting up, "Ooh, are those cashews? I love cashews!" He reached toward the bowl of nuts, grabbing some._

_Sam gave him an odd look and retorted, "Why does your voice sound deeper?"_

"_I dunno." He shrugged, walking past the blonde girl, "Puberty?"_

_Sam raised her eyebrows as he passed, feeling slightly confused. She didn't know why she was so concerned about Freddie's voice, but she brushed if off, thinking that it was really nothing. _

_Freddie stopped in front of the kissing booth Sam had said up, a confused and slightly nervous expression on his face. His lips puckered slightly as he wondered who Sam had set the kissing booth up for. God, no, why the heck was he even thinking that? This was Sam, the little blonde haired demon! They positively loathed each other, and Freddie had the bruises to prove it._

_Sam rolled her eyes as she gave him a look, replying in a dull monotone, "Not for nine billion dollars!"_

"_Fine," he muttered, finally figuring out who this elaborate booth was set up for. As much as she tried to hide it, Sam couldn't help but sneak looks at Shane, who was talking with another AV nerd across the hall. She and Carly had been fighting over who would date him first, and they had come to the conclusion that whoever kissed the guy first would win him for themselves. Freddie paced closer, lowering his voice, "But I do want you to win this Shane contest." Lie, lie, lie, his brain seemed to scream at the blonde-headed teen in front of him, but he would never say that out loud. He had to continually tell himself to love Carly; somehow his feelings for her had been slipping away._

_Sam looked away for a moment, muttering, "You don't want me to win, you just want Carly to lose!" It was always about Carly, her mind reminded her. Freddie had been in love with the brunette for a couple years now, and apparently he wasn't about to notice any other girl around. She felt a prick of hurt, but she tried to brush it away. It did no good to mope. Sam Puckett doesn't mope._

_Freddie pointed his finger accusingly at her, "That is…..true," he admitted gruffly, wishing that he could say the exact opposite. But he was hoping for the impossible. It would be better to moon over Carly then wish for this._

_Sam lowered her gaze, the hurt battling in her blue eyes. She didn't know why his words were cutting her so deeply. They hadn't hurt like this before…._

I was dreaming for one of the first times since my death, dreaming so peacefully that I didn't ever want to be woken up (well, unless someone offered me ham, then that would be a different story entirely.) In my...conflicting dream my eyelids fluttered open, my oceanic orbs connecting with the glass panes of the double doored slider onto the fire escape. _Our_ fire escape, if that helps to define anything. But this wasn't the same scene as our first kiss, I noted immediately after pushing open the right hand door and making my way onto the small platform, my blonde curls blowing luxuriously in the slight breeze. Freddork wasn't here yet, but I had a sneaking suspicion that he would be showing up any moment.

Stumbling sleepily over to the brick wall that surrounded the precious staircase leading down the side of the building I seated myself, my free hand cupping a delectable peace of bacon which I quickly brought to my waiting mouth, devouring it. A few peaceful moments passed and as the night air cooled considerably I rubbed my arms with the palms of my hands, attempting to recover my lost body heat, to no avail.

"Cold?" The boy's all too familiar voice asked, a slight snippet to his tone that I'd missed dearly. I turned to glance at his still semi-short stature, wishing that my teeth would stop chattering. To top it off, the dork hadn't brought a coat with him; _just great_, I thought wryly.

"No," I lied automatically, shrugging off the chills sweeping through my body.

"Liar," he grunted, sitting right next to me, the sides of our hips and thighs brushing as he did so. A moment later he gave a gruff, uncomfortable laugh and I stiffened as I felt his fingers creeping down my back, around my shoulder and down until they rested, cupping my waist securely. After a minute of acting stubborn I reluctantly gave in, leaning into his surprisingly welcoming sense of warmth.

"How did you know that I was lying?" I questioned in my normal snap of a voice. "You can never tell the difference between my true sentiments and my deceits!" This couldn't possibly be a dream, I concluded, it felt way too real.

"I know everything about you, Sam," the dork answered quietly, a slight stutter to his tone and I felt a shudder that was more from nerves than anything else. Freddie's hand tightened around my waist, sending a weird flutter twirling in my stomach. I turned to look at Freddie, my lips slightly pursed as I studied him.

"I wish this was real," I whispered, my face blank but my heart a tangled mess. _Whoa, where did that come from, _I wondered with a jolt.

"Sam," Freddie whimpered all of a sudden, his face crumpling as he glanced down to where his arm remained weaved around my waist before pulling away quickly. Tears filled his eyes and his arms lifting up in the air, beginning to flail around in a random set of motions.

"Uh, what are you doing?" I asked him, worry blossoming in my chest, threatening to constrict me, as a tear rolled slowly down his left cheek.

"Sam...d-don't leave me," the boy choked out desperately, reaching blindly in my direction, his vision glazed in panic.

"I'm right here..." I mumbled in confusion as he turned away from me, sobbing like his heart was being ripped in two. "I'm right here!" I shouted when he ignored me.

"Sam..." Freddie blubbered once more. "Please...I need you...I think...I think that I might lo-"

My heartrate picked out by ten thousand percent only to be shattered as the essence of the dream was ripped away from me, leaving me to dwell in my own lifeless form.

As my eyes slid open a crack I let out a groan of disappointment, mopping the sweat from my brow as my heart rate fluctuated once more. Reluctantly I forced my eyes open, wincing dramatically as the bright morning light filtered through the shabby curtains, blinding me and making my eyes water. Once my oceanic orbs were clear from the blind spots the giant ball of illuminescent gas that we call our sun, however, I couldn't help but smile a twinge. I was still lying next to the tech nerd on his bed, my face nuzzled for comfort into his broad expanse of chest. His arms weren't wrapped around me; I didn't really expect it though. I mean, unless he's going insane then he has absolutely no clue that I snuggled with him on his bed all night. _Ugh, Sam Puckett snuggling? What has this world come to?_

Thank God he wasn't crying like in my momentary paradise of a dream that quickly morphed into a nightmare; he was only muttering my name in that same desperate tone he'd used in my dream. His eyelids were just fluttering rapidly, which I had learned awhile back from this dork himself actually meant he was drifting in dreamland. I quirked a smirk at the memory.

* * *

_"Sam," a familiar voice whispered and my eyes flashed open just as the dork's fingers closed gently around my bicep, shaking me awake. I yawned for a moment, willing myself not to collapse back onto my spot next to Carly on her super-comfy bed. The clock on my best friend's maple wood dresser read 3:18am._

_"It's time to film our Wake Up Spencer segment," Freddie explained quietly, shooting a loving glance at the brunette sleeping soundly beneath her mound of covers._

_"I'm tired," I complained a little too loudly, and Carly shifted on the bed, her arms moseying up and around the pillow her head currently rested on. The front was embroidered with a pink, flowery pattern. A little too girly for my personal taste._

_"Shhh," the boy hissed, holding out a hand for me to take. I grasped his fingers reluctantly, allowing him to pull my shivering form to my feet, exposing my snow white, low-cut tanktop and tiny shorts that read **Las Vegas. **I swore I saw his eyes widen a little bit at my lack of clothing but I shrugged it off. It was really cold after being cuddled in a swath of blankets and pillows for most of the night and I danced on my feet to keep warm._

_"Sorry," I muttered, unrepentent. "Let me go back to bed! I'm tired and it's cold!" I snapped, my voice raising again._

_"Sam," Freddie mumbled darkly, "Shut up." He began to pull me in the direction of Carly's door, pausing as the brunette moaned happily, her form stretching under the covers._

_"S'up?" She asked sleepily, brushing a strand of hair away from her mouth. "Where are you two going?"_

_"See, you woke Carly up," The tech nerd rebuked me, starting to propell me towards the door once more. _

_"We're going to make fun of your brother," I explained cheerfully to my best friend, watching her eyelids droop as she fought the sleep instinct off. _

_"Oh...be safe...don't do annyyythiiinnng stuuuppidd..." Carly's voice faded away as she fell back asleep, a soft snore emitting from her open mouth._

_Freddie closed Carly's door slowly and as I waited for him I rubbed my hands together. Damn it was cold. "Hurry up, I'm freezing my ass off," I told him, my oceanic orbs glinting dangerously in the moonlight. My unhindered breasts jiggled up and down slightly painfully as I began bouncing once more and the dork's mouth gaped as he watched my woman lumps move. Stupid, perverted kid._

_"Stop eyeing my boobs and get moving, slowpoke," I chided harshly, wrapping my arms around myself as I went to check the upstairs thermostat by the iCarly studio. It read 33 degrees._

_I came back to find Freddie shedding himself of his coat. "Turn around," he ordered in a surprisingly authoritive tone and I did as he asked for once, smirking to myself as he slipped the jacket on my half-frozen body. I zipped up the jacket instantly, letting out a breath that I could see, unfortunately, mingle in the air. "It's a little over 30 degrees," I warned the dork._

_"Fine, whatever," he surrendered wearily, but I swore I could hear his teeth chattering as we cautiously made our way downstairs. I pushed the artist's door open, wincing as it squeaked like a chainsaw in this deathly quiet._

_"Quiet," Freddork reminded me impertinently. _

_"Yeah, yeah," I waved him off in a whisper, charging bravely over to the foot of Spencer's bed. Carly's older brother was being stupid, as usual, and sleeping on top of the covers, clothed in nothing besides ducky boxers. Luckily I was used to all my mom's boyfriend's spending the night and dressing like this so it didn't bother me really at all, but Freddie paled, gulping audibly._

_"You act like you haven't seen yourself naked," I accused the boy with a tiny smile._

_He blushed a dark red, crossing his legs instantly, "That's none of your business!"_

_"God, lighten up already," I told him impatiently. "You're such a dork." Shifting closer to the asleep man on the bed I questioned something in my mind, accidentally speaking it out loud. "How do we know that he's dreaming?" _

_"His eyelids will flutter when he's dreaming," Freddie explained in a surprisingly patient tone, running a shaky hand through his hair. _

_"Damn," I muttered as I looked at Spencer's eyelids speculatively. They weren't moving. "We'll have to wait then."_

_"Yep," The dork agreed, snagging the only chair in the room before I could move. The boy had his devious moments, I admitted, though rare they were. _

_"Hey," I complained in a hiss. "I wanted to sit there." _

_"Tough," he answered smartly, smirking in my direction. So he thought he'd won, I determined with a dark look before springing on his lap. Freddie let out a surprised exclaimation, attempting to push me off and I clung to the top of the head-rest of the chair. It made it kind of awkward to sit like this, I thought; I was straddling Freddork's lap, my arms brushing his shoulders and the sides of his neck as I hung on. _

_We struggled for another moment, which only ended up in me scooting up his lap to where I was sitting on his crotch. And then, we both froze as Spencer moaned, threatening to wake up if we didn't quiet down. Instinctively, my head shot into the crook of Freddie's neck, my blonde ringlets hiding my quickly reddening face and I bit my lower lip to keep silent._

_"What are you doing?" Freddenstein asked in an uncomfortable tone and I blushed deeper as I felt the slight tent in his red pajama bottoms prodding my thigh._

_"Don't you get an erection on me or I'll cut 'it' off," I threatened, which only caused more blood to rush to that particular muscle in his body. Wow, this was awkward. Spencer muttered something in his sleep but his eyelids still weren't fluttering and neither of us were brave enough to move from our...sexually arousing...spots; we didn't want to wake him up._

_"So..." I mumbled into his neck, my breath making him shiver. "My sixteenth birthday is next week. What are you getting Mama?" I asked him, trying to change the subject._

_"What makes you think I'm getting you anything?" He replied lowly, shooting me a grin. _

_"Let's see..." I pretended to ponder the question, quickly finishing with: "Because if you don't get something for me for my birthday then I'll be forced to grab my taser and-"_

_"Where did you get a taser?" Freddie asked, his voice trembling with slight fright. I smirked in victory._

_"I stole one from the police."_

_"I should have known," he muttered in a moody throttle of a tone, his eyes widening as he glimpsed something behind me and to the left. "Look, Sam!"_

_Spencer's eyelids were fluttering, just like Freddie said they would. "He's dreaming," I breathed, a mischevious smile lighting up my face. "Time to rumba..."_

_Freddie pulled out his mini camera from his pocket, watching it glimmer spookily in the light from the moon. "Ready when you are."_

* * *

Suddenly a shrill ringtone filled the air with it's pealing chorus and I moaned first in shock, a grimace distorting my face; pressing my hands tightly to my ear I attempting drowning out the sudden irritating noise. That is, until a moment later when the lyrics to the familiar song traveled through my invisible hands, trailing through my ear canal until they resulted in making my eardrum vibrate excessively. I realized that it was Freddie's ringtone: Backstabber by Kesha, one of the dork's least favorite songs. Humming along to the first verse I recalled the exact day three weeks ago that I'd changed his ringtone from one of Debussy's many movements into this load of crap; hey, I'd been extremely nice. I was going to either ship his cell off to Cambodia again or "accidentally" drop it in the nearest puddle. I could still vividly recall Mrs. Benson having a heart attack when she heard it blasting from her wittle boy's phone. Again, I was still being considerate when I chose this song; my own ringtone was Drowning Pool singing their hit single Tear Away and I loved it half to death but I knew it would probably result in the psychopath mother's annihilation.

**Girl, you're such a backstabber,**

**Oh Girl, you're such a shit-talker,**

**And everybody knows it**

**(and everybody knows it;)**

**Girl, you're such a backstabber,**

**Run your mouth more than anyone I've ever known,**

**And everybody knows it **

**(and everybody knows it.)**

Apparently Freddie decided to have a slight - or major, depending on your perspective - spaz attack on the bed as soon as his phone went off. It's a good thing I'm invisible and untouchable or I probably would be squished beneath his furiously flailing limbs right about now. I rolled my eyes - although to be entirely truthful this whole spectacle was drastically amusing - as the dork's fingers dug like talons into the comforter, propelling him to a more-or-less sitting position, his head drooping with fatigue. After looking around like a total dumb-ass for a few seconds he reached out like a zombie and plucked his phone from the dresser, checking the caller ID. _**My Beautiful Girlfriend**_, it stated and I fought the urge to puke into my lap, a sulky expression donning my face. I attempted denying the fact that the jealousy was eating me alive, but the facts were getting difficult to dodge and explain.

Pressing speaker, the boy took in a breath of fresh air, sneaking another look at the caller ID. Still his perfect little girlfriend, from what I could see.

"Hullo," Freddie mumbled in a sleepy tone into the circular speaker on the phone as he collapsed back onto his barrage of torn pillows.

"Hey Freddie, how is my handsome boyfriend?" My best friend trilled from the other end of the line, the connection warping her voice to a high-pitched squeak. Although Carly did sound really concerned I felt a spike of unease float into my consciouness. It was probably just the jealousy attempting to trigger an emotional response from me.

"I'm…." Freddie paused as he glanced at the torn up state of his normally vacant-looking room, biting his lip as he spotted the ripped up photograph of the three of us iCarly peeps around Christmas time. Freddie had dressed up as a, in his words, "super cool flashlight" based on the fan's votes for his costume and I'd had a fashionable Santa hat on, a bell tipping the ridiculous fashion statement off. The nerd took in a shaky breath, and I watched as more unshed tears nearly obscured his vision, "I'm dealing…."

"Oh." Carly paused for a moment as though debating what she was going to tell her boyfriend next and I floated off the dork's bed, unable to sit still. I never have been patient. There was a shifting sound on the other end of the line, as though my best friend was pacing uncontrollably, "Um, baby, can I tell you something?" She asked him in a quiet tone, and I swore that her voice caught for a moment. _Ugh, baby? Seriously now?_ I already knew that my two closest friends were a mushy couple but I wish they wouldn't flirt and crap whenever I'm near the premise. Then again, they don't know I'm here, so that gives them a sliver of an excuse.

Freddie's eyebrows shot up, the hopeless look fading a little from his chocolate brown eyes as they touched with worry, "Uh, yeah sure. What is it, Carls?" One of his shaking hands reached up to blot the sleep from the corners of his eyes and his spine straightened as he forced his body to sit upright.

Carly didn't respond for a long moment and from her end of the call I heard little sniffling noises followed by _hics _that signaled she was crying. Sympathy instantly shot through me, followed by my derision for this backstabbing little...you get the picture. But no matter how furious I was with her I couldn't help but wish she would stop crying; we are best friends, after all. "I did something terrible, Freddie..." She trailed off, but horror was already forming these grotesque situations in my head.

"What?" Freddie asked her, his lips a flat line. "Does this have anything to do with Sam?"

Carly paused again, more sobs erupting from her end of the line and I frowned impatiently, crossing my arms. God, I would love to be in her head right now. "I…I…..nevermind." She sighed sharply, and I heard her blowing loudly into what I assumed was a Kleenex.

"Fine, don't tell me," Freddork mumbled, running a hand down his face, wrinkling the skin into little hills and valleys; he looked too tired to say much, let alone be his normal perky yet nubbish self and comfort his girlfriend.

"There's something else Spencer wanted me to tell you," Carls mumbled guiltily and I could practically imagine her brushing back her luscious strands of brunette hair. "Sam's funeral is later this morning at ten and I think you should come."

Freddie's eyes filled with pain at the mention of my name and as a solitary tear riveted down his cheekbone he choked out, "But I didn't get an invitation."

"It was sort of an impromptu thing," My brunette co-host reassured him. "We figured that since Sam meant so much to us that we should host it." There was another catch to her voice but she didn't sound as destroyed as Freddie did. He acted like a crater had rammed into his soul, shattering into a thousand million pieces that couldn't be reclaimed no matter how hard he tried.

"Oh," was all the dork had to say, his brown orbs still glistening with tears.

Carly didn't speak for a minute but finally she murmered, "You were one of her best friends, Freddie-bear. She'd want you there, trust me, hon." I fought the reflex gag resort as she crooned to my closest guy friend, each word dripping with sexiness. Again with the nicknames. I'm already getting majorly sick of them.

Freddie pressed his free hand to his forehead, kneeding the skin there rather harshly until it turned bright red. His thumbnail pierced into the skin of his cheek, drawing several droplets of blood to burst to the surface, gathering around the freshly created wound. More tears of agonizing unacceptence spilled down his face before he whispered dully, "I was never her best friend. She hated me." I grimaced like he'd shot me, those few words stinging more than a bullet wound ever would.

"Sam didn't hate you," Carls told him gently, and I heard her sniffle as he snapped his reply.

"How could she not hate me? She taunted me, hurt me and you say she thought that I was her best friend? Wake the hell up and get a taste of reality, Carly!" He was shouting by the end of his speech. I felt the burning sensation within my stomach and as it reached my eyes I dug my fingers into the mattress. I would not let the dork make me cry over him. I could not, it wasn't the Sam Puckett way.

"Freddie, are you okay?" Marissa Benson called from just outside his door, her knuckles rapping smartly on the wood. "Is something wrong, hunny?"

"Go away, mom, I'm fine," Freddison yelled from the bed, tears still rippling slowly down his cheeks. I heard his mom sigh in defeat and her footfalls echoed slightly on the carpeted floor as she walked away.

Finally, the silence was broken by my best friend's tremulous tone. She was clearly frightened. "Even if she hated you, she still knew you and you should be there. If for nothing else, come to support me. I was her best friend." No duh, Carly. Stop playing the drama queen role. It was already taken the day I was born. No, scratch that, the day I was conceived. Mom always knew that I would be a troublemaker.

Freddie sighed heavily, running a hand through his messy brown hair as he rubbed the tears away frantically, like someone would suddenly burst in and make sport of his feelings. When he did speak, it was in a practically lifeless tone. "Fine, I'll come to support you. See you later, babe." He hung up without another word and tossed the phone across the room, not even wincing as it cracked open against the floor, breaking into several pieces. Freddie simply fell back against the multitude of ripped pillows, bursting out in a fresh round of sobs. My invisible fingers brushed against his cheek soothingly and I shuddered as my hand sunk right through his skin.

I had beaten him up every time I saw him, many times until his skin was black and blue all over and the blood flowed from his nose. I had taunted him for selfish reasons, grinning with pride every time I saw him glance away sadly. And now, I was the reason that he hated me with a passion. I should have known that would never change, I was stupid to even believe that it could, after all the times that I'd wounded him both physically and emotionally. It was obvious that Freddie and Carly loved and needed each other more than ever now that I was gone. I was just an invisible third wheel that nobody wanted anymore, I accepted, finally unable to keep the tears from streaming down my face.

* * *

I watched as Freddie made his way around his room, his slow shuffle resembling a zombie in many ways, his pale fingers pulling out clothes from the places you'd least expect them to be. Jeans from the laptop case, a red shirt from under the bed, and a black tweed jacket from the potted plant in the corner. I watched, my face turning crimson, as his fingers slung off his pajama top, leaving his bare chest to glisten in the morning light; as his hands drifted idly towards the belt buckle on his jeans I turned, flinging my arms across my face as the sound of a zipper being drawn down echoed around the room. When I heard Iris by the Goo-Goo Dolls start playing from his iPod dock I figured that it was alright to turn around and I did so, my cheeks still flaming with embaressment. The dork slid on some plain black flats to finish, and, running both his hands respectively through his tangled brown locks, he nodded in acceptance of his drab look.

I had to say, he did look...okay in his outfit; the dark jeans were tight enough but not 'bad boy' tight, the red shirt had enough color to keep his outfit from looking goth-ish and the black jacket was a nice touch. I know, you're asking: since when did Sam Puckett become a fashion psychologist? Don't ask me, mi amigos.

Freddie took a sneak peek at the round clock mounted on the wall opposite his bed, and my eyes automatically followed his, showing how clearly bored I really was. It was only eight am; he and his psychotic mother didn't have to leave until nine, an agonizingly long time away from my perspective. I struggled out of my criss-cross-applesauce pose on Freddork's bed as he reached reverently for his Toshiba laptop, opening it so slowly that I fought the urge to reach over and open it myself; too bad that would scare the dork to death. Shrugging in defeat, I made my way out of his room and into his mom's bathroom; the woman wasn't in the premise and I'd heard Freddie mutter something about her heading to the grocery store for exactly 28 minutes.

As I turned on the shower tap and felt the momentarily cool water rush over my invisible skin I felt a rush of peace; this simple little act made me feel normal, almost as if I was alive again. But as my closed eyes flickered open I felt my satisfaction rush away with the pouring of the water. I could see my invisible fingers, watch the droplets soak them for a minute before continuing down to filter down the drain, along with my every dream.

I was dead, and there was nothing I could do to change that.

* * *

As I stepped cautiously - but apparently not cautious enough, considering that I slipped and fell with a slap onto the cold tiled floor of the bathroom - out of the refreshing shower, my hair sticking up like a pom-pom I suddenly realized that I hadn't laid out any clothes to change into. A red flush suffused my cheeks as I wrapped the polka dot towel around my body, securing it tightly just above my breasts. I wondered for a second if the nub had left some other clothes lying in misshapen shapes in random places around his room, and, inhaling sharply, I walked quietly out of the bathroom and down the hallway towards the dork's bedroom. Stopping outside Freddie's still partly open door I paused in horror as I realized that I couldn't just waltz into his room wearing a towel; it would look as if the piece of fabric was hanging in midair.

_C'mon, you're Sam Puckett! Stop whining and get your ass in there, _my mind snapped, drawing a determined expression to my face. Taking in another deep breath I let the towel fall sensually to the floor where it landed in a heap, leaving me standing nude just outside the boy's door. I slid through the gap between the door and the wall, my hands flying instinctively to cover up private areas, but I soon realized how stupid I was acting. Freddie was lying on his bed, his knees propped up to balance his laptop, his dark brown orbs locked on the screen. I allowed my hands to swing down by my sides as I glanced around his room, cursing under my breath as I realized how spic-and-span it looked. Everything was in pristine condition, practically the way it had looked before he'd heard the news of my death; the dork must have cleaned up while I was showering.

I could hear the familiar sounds of Carly and I messing around and doing our little hula dance from our webcast blaring from the speakers in the laptop and the fact that he was watching old iCarly videos made me smile. That specific episode had been filmed the day that Carly and I had met Freddie's hot AV nerd friend, Shane and it had led to my and Carly's first huge fight. The memory dampened my light-hearted mood and my eyes made another circuit of the dork's room, combing it for any possible clothes. Nada.

My cheeks flushed once more in mortification as I realized that I was still standing in the middle of Freddie's room, naked. _Time to fix that little issue._

I walked away from the bed in short, purposeful steps, heading as fast as I could without sprinting towards the door. _Stop it_, my mind scolded. _He can't see you anyways, thank God. You can stop acting like such a pansy._ I didn't know why I was so uncomfortable being naked in Freddork's room; normally I'm as tough a cookie as they come, but for this specific problem...well, I was probably just paranoid about guys and that Freddork could rape me if he wanted to. Yeah, that was it, the truth. Well, no, not really, but I'm not about to spill the truth.

I walked silently down the hall, stopping at what I knew was "her" door. How did I know it was her door, you might wonder? Well, for starters, it's painted pink and has all these pictures of Mrs. Benson smiling psychotically. Plus there's a line of fancy calligraphy saying: I LOVE MY FREDDIE-BEAR! I shuddered as I read that little tidbit, a mental image submerging:

* * *

_"Come here, Freddie-Weddie," cooed Marissa Benson as she cuddled her son in her lap, forcing a spoon with a greenish glop on it towards his tightly clenched lips. "Time to eat your mashed low-fat cucumber cups!"_

_"Ewww!" cried the teenage boy, shaking his head no, but Marissa only forced his lips open, feeding him the disgusting goop. Freddie swallowed, his eyes bugging with disgust._

_"Vewwy good," crooned his mother, running a hand through his brown hair thoughtfully. "Now it's time to dress you in your outfit for the day!" She held up a one piece bright pink jumpsuit with lollipops popping up all over it and the words I Love Mamma written on the chest piece..._

* * *

Shivering again, I mumbled, "Eeeeeeeeaaaw," under my breath, a thought coming to mind. For a moment I considered wearing the psycho ladies clothes - after all, something of her's must fit me - but the concept made my gag reflex go off. There was no way, no possible way that I would subject myself to that horrendous, off the chart torture. I could just see the result now: me, wearing one of her frilly, flowery dresses and giggling my head off like a blonde bimbo. I shrieked, bursting that nightmareish bubble in my head. The thought of me, Sam Puckett, wearing old lady clothes, especially a dress with frills and flowers and pink, was 0.000000000000000...aka no chance whatsover.

It suddenly hit me and I wondered how I hadn't thought of it before. Grabbing the towel from outside Freddie's door I wove it around my petite body, securing it so I was pretty sure it wouldn't fall off right away. Carly wore almost the same size clothes as I did, ok, maybe she was a size or two smaller than me, but what can I say, Mama loves her bacon, no matter how fattening it is. And even though Shay was practically dancing over my death with a side of fake despondency, she was still one of my best friends and I trusted her more than any other girl around.

I made my way slowly down the hallway, away from Freddie's room, still deep in thought about what I would take from my best friend's closet. She had that really cute halter top and maybe a pair of skinny jeans with it...I winced and cursed inaudibly as my hip connected with the edge of the kitchen counter, sending a few spires of pain up my waist. There were a few coasters decorated with what looked like Freddie and Marissa's faces, along with a few others of a man who greatly resembled the dork sitting a few feet away on the countertop. With a small shock I realized that it must be Freddie's dad, Nathan.

Fredfur had never really talked about his dad much when I'd been alive; the only info I'd obtained had been through Carly, because of course, the boy would talk to his highly esteemed crush. Pretty much, Marissa and her husband had been in love up until Freddie turned four, at which time the arguing started. They finally got divorced when their son was seven; from what I remember Carly telling me Nathan cracked after losing his job and had screamed profanities at his wife. She in turn had slapped him and without another word he'd packed his bags and left. When Freddie was thirteen they'd gotten a call from the local police department saying that a Nathan Benson had been found dead in a hotel room; his second wife, Marcie, had given a tearful interview on the matter, while holding her two year old son, Freddie's half-brother. The afternoon of that phone call was the last time I saw the dork cry before yesterday.

I shrugged as I saw the fridge in the corner of the semi-spacious kitchen; it wouldn't hurt to "borrow" some of their food, now would it? They wouldn't miss it.

I opened the fridge door slowly, hoping that it would stay silent, and wincing as it creaked eerily around the dark space. Luckily the dork's mom was still out of the house, although she'd be due home in several minutes, if my calculations were decent. There was no sound of creaking or moving feet from Freddie's room, which I took as the go-ahead signal. My eyes lit up like fireworks on the Fourth of July as I saw a slab of pork near the back of the fridge, covered by a thin layer of foil; I was shocked that someone as paranoid as Freddlina's mom would actually have something this delectable stored in her fridge. I mean, I'm talking about the woman who makes her son eat low fat cucumber cups and all that crap. I pulled out the pork, stuffing it under my jacket to save for later, a surprisingly patient decision on my part, and shut the fridge door shut slowly, carefully.

Sliding through the front door of the Benson's apartment I removed the meat from under my jacket and, unwrapping one end, took a huge bite, groaning in pure delight as a mixture of grease and blood slid down from my lips to my chin. I spent another minute savoring the juicy flavor before rewrapping the treat and stuffing in my huge jacket pocket before reaching into my head of blonde ringlets for a hairpin.

Spencer hadn't bothered to put locks on the door after I'd broken the lock for the third time and I guess he'd forgotten to put one on after my death. Seattle was a relatively safe town and he knew that I would only break them in several pieces, only backed up by my previous four or more assaults on his front door. Then again, I didn't need a hairpin. I grinned with this realization and simply floated serenely through the door, coming to a halt as I collapsed on the chair by the door. Getting up with a huff a moment, I made my way over to the stairs only to pause and smirk deviously as I spotted Spencer lying on the couch, asleep. The artist was clutching one of the pillows, his pearly whites sinking into the fabric for a moment as he tossed and turned. He must have been dreaming something extremely weird though, because he kept mumbling, "No, bad raccoon, don't steal my butter! My butter!" My smirk widened into a full blown mischevious grin as I got a fabulous idea. I couldn't resist, I had to try this.

I floated over to him, leaning towards him until my lips were almost touching his ear, and then I whispered, "This is the ghost of raccoon's paaaast…."

Spencer whimpered, and clutched his pillow tighter, "G-ghost? What do you want? Do you want to steal my butter too?" He then let out a loud snore.

I held back my laughter as I hissed, "I have a prophecy of what is to come. The raccoons are angry, Spencer. They want revenge. They will steal allllll your butter, all of it…."

Spencer started to flail in his sleep and I backed up a few steps, watching my handiwork, "NO! STAY AWAY FROM MY BUTTER!" He then whimpered, "What did I do to deserve this?"

I rolled my eyes, pleased with his reaction, but already bored at the same time. Spencer was always predictable. He always believed everything that I told him. Once I had mussed up my hair and come in with a sob story about how these guys had jumped me in an alley on Puttwood Lane. His eyes had widened and he had immediately gotten ready to call 911, while I just sat there smirking at him. I had lied completely; there was no Puttwood Lane. I mean, he would give me an antagonized look afterword, but he was pretty chill for an older brother. I always get off the hook.

Wait, why was I here again? Oh yeah, I have to get clothes from Carly. I took a last look at Spencer, who had fallen into a deeper unconscious state, pausing as I pondered how he'd heard me. Huh, maybe if you were asleep and dreaming then your conscious would be more sensitive to ghostly voices. Who knows? Ascending the stairs two at a time, my feet clomping loudly every time I landed, I finally reached Carly's room. She had left her door open a little and I squeezed through, smiling as I saw her fast asleep on her bed, her Ipod headphones jammed into her ears. I could distinctly hear the song Baby from Justin Beiber. Carly was such a girly girl sometimes:

**You know you love me,**

**I know you care,**

**You shout whenever,**

**And I'll be there;**

**You want my love, **

**You want my heart,**

**And we will never,**

**Ever ever be apart;**

**Are we an item?**

**Girl quit playing,**

**We're just friends,**

**What are we saying?**

**So there's another one,**

**Looks right in my eyes,**

**My first love,**

**Broke my heart for the first time;**

**And I was like,**

**Baby baby baby no,**

**Baby baby baby, no**

**Baby baby baby, no,**

**I thought you'd always be mine, mine;**

I rolled my eyes slightly, hating myself for actually being able to minutely stand the song she was listening to, although I loathe the composer. I mean, this twelve year old kid named Justin Bieber is singing his lungs out about all the girls he's dated. Seriously, I mean, one, he's not that cute, and two, he's not even a teenager yet, although the tabloids claim he's almost sixteen; he can't have dated very many girls.

I opened Carly's closet door, watching the rollers peel in opposite directions, allowing me access to her many, _many_ outfits. Curious, I peered inside, gasping a little too loudly as I noted that her collection of clothes had increased drastically over the course of the last few months. And then, my breath caught in my chest as I heard my best friend turn up the music on her Ipod. I turned around quickly, slapping a hand over my mouth, watching as Carly yawned, and my heart pounded like a metranome turned up five thousand notches. If she woke up then I wouldn't be able to get the clothes I needed for the...funeral.

'Fall asleep, little Carly' my mind cooed, and I mentally gagged at myself. I wished that I could go and hang with the tough dudes of our school again. I was becoming sickeningly girly. Carly mumbled something inaudible that sounded like "hmm, I love you Justin," and then relaxed back into the comforter of the bed, falling back into dream land. She snored softly, unconsciously letting me know that I hadn't blown it. I let out a heavy sigh of relief as I turned back to the clothes in her closet.

After sifting for a few minutes a frown had etched onto my face. All of these clothes were all wrong: I needed something sexy and yet mournful enough for this event. I knew that nobody would see me but it didn't mean that I didn't care how I looked. And then, a glimmer of blue caught my eye. Slowly, I pulled out a beautiful, short blue dress with sequins decorating the shimmery color. A small, glossy ribbon weaved around the waist of the dress, making the most of the wearer's chest. Holding it up to my chest I glanced in the mirror by the closet, relieved that I could still see myself. I guessed that other's couldn't, though, even with a rebound from the mirror. The dress looked like it was made for me and I fought back a squeal. Yeah, I definitely needed to find some tough kids to work with. This was becoming way too giggly for my taste.

Glancing furitively down at Freddie's white tanktop and boxer shorts I sighed in relief, smiling a little as I wondered how pretty I would be for this afternoon.

Little did I know that the outfit would be the least of my worries by the end of the day.

Little did I know that I wasn't the only one in danger anymore.

Little did I know that my friend's lives were at stake.

* * *

"_You're the queen of the jerks!" Sam glared at Freddie._

_Carly gave Sam an odd look as if to say, 'Why did you call him the queen of the jerks?' Meanwhile Freddie retorted angrily, "Why pick on me?"_

_Sam rolled her eyes as she held up two fingers, "Two reasons. One, I….LOVE it." She paused for dramatic effect, "And two, this whole fight is your fault!"_

_Freddie stepped out from behind his camera and computer setup, "I just said I didn't think his videos were all that funny! He's the one who overreacted and started this whole brouhaha!"_

_Sam's mouth hung open a little bit, but she was still engrossed in their fight, "Brouhaha?"_

_Carly looked regretfully at Freddie, "You can't say something like brouhaha and not expect someone to hit you!"_

**Hey guys, sorry this one is so suckishly short, but it's more of a filler chapter. The next episode should have a little more drama. Thank for all for your great ideas. Some of them will be used in this fanfic! Love you all!**


	6. Part Five

Remember Me Part 5

**_Recently edited August 17, 2010_**

**I want to thank everyone who replied to my question on the last episode. I want to assure you all that there will be a Seddie interaction in here, but it may not be exactly what you think. And for those of you that didn't comment, you know who you are, I will be gracious and not kill you. Lol, no it's fine, I mean, I like it when you guys comment and stuff but it gets tiring to comment on every episode, especially when they are short. Anyways, this one is a little longer, and let the drama begin! Please enjoy and let me know what you think.**

"_Now," Carly smiled at the camera, "If you guys have a question…"_

"_Send it to iCarly dot com," Sam added, a mischievous sparkle in her eyes._

_Carly gave Freddie a gentle smile and then nodded at him, "Freddie?"_

_Freddie held up the thin sheet of paper on which a question from an iCarly fan had written to them. He smirked, and then began, "Carly, don't you think it would be awesome to be Freddie's girlfriend?"_

_Sam tensed up. "Read the real question!" She looked away for a moment, feeling the sting of rejection. Freddie would always love Carly, she knew that wasn't going to change. She just may as well accept it._

_Freddie stood up on the landing near the stairs and raised his hand above his head, trying to attract the several dozen teenagers partying for Sam's birthday in front of him.  
"Hey! Everybody! Hey, everybody…." He sighed, and then shouted, "LISTEN UP!"_

_Someone turned the music down as Freddie continued, "Alright, now, the time has come for whoever wants to say some words about the birthday girl." He shot a gentle smile at Sam, who smiled giddily back up at him. Two girls led her over to a chair over by Freddie and she sat down, still smiling widely._

_Freddie looked over at Carly, a brief spark of longing catching in his eyes, "Carly, you wanna go first?"_

"_I do," Carly declared, and skipped past Freddie, blushing slightly at the sight of him. She stood up by Sam and grinned at her best friend. "Hey everybody," she waved at the crowd before turning towards Sam. "Sam, first, happy birthday. You're my best friend in the whole world, and the funniest person I've ever met."_

"_Yeah, Sam!" Gibby interrupted, "Yeeeeoh!"_

_Everybody gave Gibby a weird look as Carly went on with her speech, ending with, "To Sam." She raised her bottle in the air, toasting her best friend. She then beckoned Freddie up, "Freddie, you're up." She exited into the crowd as Freddie bounded up to the stage, giving Sam a quick look._

"_Alright," he began, "I've got a few words to say about Sam."_

"_Better watch it, Fredfur." Sam gave him a look and then settled back in her seat._

_Freddie rolled his eyes before continuing, "I just want to say, Sam, even though you constantly cause me both physical and emotional pain…" He chuckled as the teens around him laughed, "Not joking."_

_He hesitated, looking straight into her blue eyes, "I think of you and me as really close friends."_

"_Apparently I haven't caused him enough emotional pain." Sam shrugged, inwardly blushing at the words that Freddie had just spoken._

"Come on, mom!" Freddie shouted as he emerged from the hallway leading to his bedroom, collapsing into the black leather couch in the living room with a huff of impatience. Reaching for the remote the dork flipped on the TV, shifting rapidly through the channels until he reached the X Games. Having followed him into the living room I grunted in approval of the channel before seating myself next to the brunette.

I smirked as the contestant with the red number 13 printed on his jerkin as he attempted a double backflip, apparently failing as he crashed mid-flip into the dirt hill, his neck snapping sideways. Freddie winced. _Unlucky thirteen, had to see that coming. _The judges of today's event apparently agreed with my noncommital thought, holding up a 1, 2, and a 0.5 on their individual pallets. "Ohhhh, you just got re-JECTED!" I roared, tossing my fist up in the air for a moment as an ambulance raced onto the course, cautiously placing the miscreant on a stretcher.

A minute later, when Mrs. Benson still hadn't appeared from her bedroom (she'd come home two minutes later than she'd told Freddie from the grocery store and that must upset her schedule) I tilted my head back on the couch, rubbing the sore muscles in my neck. The new position wasn't any more comfortable, however, and finally, with a grimace of resistance, I lowered my head onto the dork's shoulder. I sighed, allowing the breath to escape from my lungs, as a mound of stress slowly evaporated from my body, flying up into who knows where. This whole being dead thing was really starting to take it out of me.

Or maybe it was just this specific day; I entertained the thought, shivering as I thought about my lifeless Earthly body being lowered into the ground where it would be buried for the rest of eternity. The notion was chilling, to put it simply. I mean, not many things can normally scare me but this is one of those supernatural mysteries that frightens the hell out of me. How many people actually get to experience their own funeral? Not many, I would presume.

If I'd had a choice in the matter I would have stayed here and popped kettle corn and microwaved mini weiners and watched reruns of Top Chef while stuffing my face. Mom stopped letting me watch that after I thought the ham on the screen was real and I tackled the TV, shattering it into a million pieces. What, I was only nine and the ham did look very lifelike!

Oh well, I shrugged, massaging the side of my neck as it began to cramp slightly. My ear burned as it rested against the dork's shoulder and the position was slightly uncomfortable but it was definitely better than nothing. An irrational butterfly zoomed to life in my stomach and I instinctively squashed it, my fist pounding into the figurative colorful moth as I buried the feelings away. I was supposed to be treasuring these last days as a ghost near my loved ones, not stretching for something I could never capture. _I have to be crazy; the dork and I could barely stand each other when I was alive, so what changed? _

An unintentional grimace slipped past my pursed red lips - _so I'm wearing a little makeup, shoot me - _as I heard Marissa's horrendously high heels clacking in a muffled sense against the carpet as she made her way towards us. "Freddiebear, are you coming?" The woman emerged from the hallway, her fingers poofing up her curly mass of brunette hair, and grabbed her crocodile skin purse from the counter; it almost looked as if she'd had a perm-went wrong. The ends of the curls were spliced in an unattractive fashion and the curls themselves were humongous and covered half her over-powdered face. Taking another glance I realized that she'd attempted to add auburn streaks stretching from her roots to tips, although they zigzagged randomly throughout her ringlets and the color was more a bright red then anything else.

My gaze swept down her form, my mouth widening with every inch I moved down. She looked fabulous! No, just kidding, she looked horrible, actually. I surpressed a snort of utter disbelief as I noted the flashy, fake, triple-tier diamond necklace, the mauve tanktop with the word goodbye embroidered on it under her silver-sequined pink dress and her strappy white high heels with little plastic butterflies glued to the straps.

"Dear God," I whispered, too grossed out to laugh at the situation. The woman was going to my _funeral, _for God's sake, not Hooters. And apparently the dork agreed with me. Freddie's face was as white as a sheet, his hands knotting in his stomach as he struggled to speak. I didn't blame him for his sudden loss of words.

"Uh...mom," he began, his voice trembling like an aspen leaf.

"What do you think?" Marissa made a three sixty, revealing the backless dress and the top of her bright blue underwear. The tanktop only covered down to the middle of her back and her bra straps were clearly visible through the thin material.

"I think...I think my normally over-conservative mother looks like a hooker," Freddie admitted in a mumble, the tips of his ears going bright red as Marissa's eyes widened in shock.

"Fredward Benson!" She screeched, crossing her arms.

"If truth is finally taught, then youth you are not," recited her teenage son, his brown orbs filling with embaressment as his mother turned her back on him, flashing him another glance of her undergarments.

"Very well," Marissa muttered, tilting her head in a regal manner before flouncing towards her bedroom to change.

Freddie let out a long breath through his teeth as she disappeared and, rolling his eyes in a tense manner that signified he was really glad that conversation was over, he got up; I screeched as, without warning, my head left his shoulder and hit the antibacterial leather of the couch as the dork headed over to the kitchen counter, reaching for a banana.

"Ew, ew, ew," I chanted, brushing myself clean of any aggressive parenting germs, straightening my dress as I did so.

For only the millionth time I wished that I could be visible for a minute, just so that somebody could see me in this outfit. It fit my hourglass form (Carly had taught me the term last year during prom season; by the way I didn't go to prom, Pete had dumped me a couple weeks before the dance and I didn't feel like going) and brought out little bits of sparkling sunlight from my oceanic orbs. My hair had been skillfully curled and now rested in waves around my creamy skin and, as a last resort, I'd added a black bow to pull back my blonde ringlets on the right side. My sandals were midnight black and had criss cross straps. My (well actually, all this was Carly's) bra was strapless, leaving my shoulders free to move; the dress was strapless as well, if you didn't already pick that up. As the final touches I'd added a simple silver necklace that said Sam in curvy letters, silver bangles for my wrists and diamond earrings to my pierced lobes. For the first time in my whole life I could actually describe myself as 'beautiful.' _I can believe I just thought that. _

Ten minutes later Marissa revealed herself in the foyer of the apartment, dressed in a somber black dress with a V-neck cut and respectable black boots with mini-heels. Her brunette hair was pulled back into a smart bun, revealing gold loops hanging from her ears. "Better?" She asked her son in a grudging tone.

"Much," he responded, smiling gently at his parent. I crossed my arms, feeling another little flitter of something that I wouldn't, _couldn't_ like at all. Tenderness for the duo that had just embraced each other by the marbled countertop.

The little moment between mother and son was shattered as Marissa reached up slightly (Freddie was now several inches taller than her 5'8 stature) and patted the dork's carefully sculpted 'do,' flattening it. "Mom!" Freddork whined, blocking his mother's prying hands, his feet carrying him towards the door.

"I was only fixing your hair," Mrs. Benson told him in her chiming 'I'm desperate to be friendly' tone. "That is not the right impression to make for your beautiful girlfriend!"

"Carly happens to _like _this hairstyle," the dork groaned in his impatient voice.

"Yes, because I fixed it!" Marissa insisted, following her son as he moved towards the front door. As I traipsed sullenly towards the agitated family members a sudden movement in my peripherals made me spin to the left, only to squint in confusion. There was nothing there._ I swore I just saw...no, it was nothing, just my eyes playing tricks on me._

"No, you ruined it!" Freddie argued, his cheeks puffing up in that amusing way that meant he was frustrated. There was another shadowy movement to my right, a fleeting image of curved horns and demonic red eyes glaring into the depths of my soul, and I twisted quickly in that direction, but again, I was glancing into thin air_. _Annoyance and fear permeated my earlier confusion; there was something drastically off about this scene, not including the squabbling mother and son in the corner. My nostrils inhaled the brief scent of ashes and brimestone floating in the air and I stiffened. _Hell is here. _

"But Freddie..." Marissa wailed from behind me as my orbs followed the shadows that weaved in impeccable patterns around the room. My vision seemed to be tainted in reds, yellows and oranges as I watched a ghoulish-resembling creature sink its fingers into the ceiling, ripping a section of the paint and drywall out. The Bensons didn't even flinch, so apparently they couldn't see any of this. _We have to go, now._

A third movement came from above me this time and as my gaze snapped upward I caught a glimpse of sharp talons with blood dripping off the ends of the claws and a whipping tail. The creature didn't move; it continued to sit there and glare menacingly in my direction, its claws stretching beseechingly in my direction, dried blood caked into the demon's cuticals. Its burnt lips whispered something that I barely caught, and yet the syllables turned my heart to ice, frozen in complete horror. "_You...are...doomed."_

As my vision focused the twisted creature vanished into thin air and I intook a sharp breath, my hands flying to cup my trembling lips for a minute. I know, I'm acting like a total wuss but a demon from Satan himself just threatened me with eternal doom, cut me some slack!

My sixth sense shifted to hard drive and my instincts snapped that I needed to get to my funeral, pronto. I shot across the room, only to trip over thin air. Pain slashed through my arm and a metallic scent sent my head whirling. Gripping the table with my right hand I turned towards the direction of the agony, only to double-back as I saw the crescent shaped gash on my upper left arm; blood oozed sluggishly from the wound and I dabbed at the red droplets fanatically, attempting to block out my emotional response to this incident. _What just did this to me? Those freaky demon things?_

After a few more retorts Freddie and his mother slammed the front door of the apartment behind them, heading for their Saturn, dark-blue van in the Plaza's parking structure. _You have to follow them,_ my mind yelled at me as I rolled to my side on the carpet; from my perpective the room looked trashed: the walls were ripped down past the drywall, stained wood boards peeking through, the curtains were torn into thin strips and the furniture was all turned over or cracked in half. I assumed, however, that it wouldn't appear like this to the Bensons. After all, they didn't know about our world. _Since when did this hell-hole become my world? **Since I died.**_

I pressed the flat of my right palm to the wound on my other arm to create pressure as little gasps escaped my now impeccably pale lips. Forcing my shuddering legs to cooperate I made my way back to a standing position, my orbs flying over my outfit, noticing with astonishment that, other then the gash on my arm, I was untouched. Perfect, would be the right word.

Another rush of post-blood loss dizziness swept through me, nearly buckling my fragile legs once more, and I forced myself to take a couple steps forward. Each foot forward, every trifling effort felt like something was holding me back, keeping me away from Freddie and Carly, almost like claws were digging into my abdomen. A look down at my stomach proved my hypothesis; blood was beginning to seem through the thin fabric of my dress, on each side of my waist, and more pain melded into my consciouness, raining down like thousands of bullet holes in my body.

I had to fight it, that much I knew. Straightening my spine and gripping the edge of the fractured kitchen counter for balance I took a deep breath before teetering over to the front door. Another forceful thought in my mind and I melded through the wood, following the footsteps of the Bensons. They'd better have not left already or I would be pissed; there was no way I was walking to my own funeral.

* * *

I leaned my head despondently against the back right car window, noting the slight tint to the glass pane as Mrs. Benson drove irritatingly slow through downtown Seattle; I swear, the dial never peaked 45. Every once in awhile the harried woman would glance up anxiously at the cloudy skies, her fingers tightening at ten and two on the steering wheel. She probably thought it was going to rain and she didn't want her precious Freddie to get a cold, although I wouldn't be surprised if she brought a gigantic umbrella just in case.

I let out a heavy sigh, running a shaky hand through my golden tresses, only to wince as I recalled that my fingers were coated in dried blood. I couldn't get the feeling that something worse was going to happen, considering the recent events in the Benson's living room. My wounds weren't bleeding anymore, but they did ache horribly.

Freddie sat in the back next to me, his legs wide-spread in the same pose that many guys adopt. They wonder why girls have to cross their legs when sitting, well, there's the answer. His mother had major issues with him sitting in the front passenger seat, something about him cracking his skull open if some crazy drunk driver ran a red light and smashed into the front of the car. Normally, I would have cracked up at that psychotic statement and taunted the dork non-stop about it until he broke down and yelled at me; obviously, however, that wasn't an option anymore, and besides, I wasn't really in the mood to mock anyone at the moment.

A couple electronic bleeps from Freddie's iPhone made me shift my attention to the boy sitting beside me in the back of the car. For just a second I let my imagination roam, noting the rainbow aura that surrounded the dork and the way his hair fluffed atop his head in just the right way to attract a girl. Then I shut down the girlish side to my persona, forcing thoughts of how nerdish our tech producer was, not to mention that I was dead and he was dating Carly. A total non-possibility, I determined, glancing down at his phone.

The corners of my mouth lifted considerably as I caught him shifting through old iCarly comments, replying to each fan review, whether his response be a couple words or a paragraph long. I had known that he tried to reply to as many fans as he could; he felt that since the individuals writing comments took time to do so then he should feel obligated to doll out a few kind words in return. My gaze followed the dork's fingers as they flew over the keyboard, spelling out something about a salmon smoothie. This simple and yet time consuming action on his part was considerably cool, and that's huge, coming from moi. I mean, look at some of the celebrities out there today; they don't care one ounce about their fans. Instead, they are content to roam Beverly Hills for new outfits or hang out in the new chic restaurants. We're probably like shit on the street to them. Thus the reason I hate all celebrities; I'd made it perfectly clear to my better half (Carls) that she'd better not throw out names like Fergie and Brittany Spears or I'd have to beat the crap out of something or someone, preferably an inanimate object, but Freddork would do as well.

The smile dropped from my face, along with my momentarily cheerful mood as I read some of the comments from our fans:

**FuzzyMunky: Great iCarly, but where was Sam? She makes the show really funny.**

**TripleD-tech: Where the hell did Sam disappear to? Did you guys ban her from the show or something, because that would be totally uncool.**

**Princess of Pop: Um, no offense, but without Sam iCarly really isn't that amusing. **

**The Invisible Person: Dude, if you take Sam out of the show then you suck. That chick is hot!**

I felt my breath catch in my throat and the urge to beat the crap out of someone submerged as curled fists and my suddenly deadly frown. Turning in the direction of the dork I prepared to hurt him as best I possibly could, considering I couldn't actually touch humans, and then my aggression was halted as I looked at him, really looked at him. My oceanic orbs were caught in his chocolate gaze, almost missing the chalky palor to our tech producer's skin and the trembling of his pale pink lips. "You didn't know about this, did you?" I whispered, feeling sorry for him.

As thought he could actually hear me the brunette male shook his head slowly from side to side, as if denying any affiliation with this atrocious act.

I had a strange feeling that Carly was behind this little change of plans. Betrayal burned into my seething red vision, fading a moment later as sorrow overcame it. I'm not totally devoid of feeling like some would argue, and this perpetration cut me deep. How could she do iCarly without me? When did she do it? My eyes flicked to the dates on the top right hand corner of the iCarly comments page on Freddie's phone and I swallowed hard, forcing an ambiguous mask onto my face, finding that it was the only way to somewhat escape the sudden hurt. If there had been any color in my cheeks it would have drained from my face in an instant. She had done it the day after I had died.

I fought the instinct to collapse onto the fabric of the seat below me, instead attempting to force my thoughts along another circuit that I could at least control. I was unsuccessful, however, and my mind took me back to my best friend's worst betrayal yet. I couldn't seem to grasp a reason for what I did to deserve my best friend acting like this towards me. We used to be so close and all of a sudden she flipped the nice switch down and turned all chilly towards me. Totally random, I know. It was almost like she had wanted me to die. _No, don't go there_, my mind attempted to calm me down. _You're just jealous of her because she's dating Freddie_.

That could possibly be closer to the truth then anything, I concluded with a throaty sigh. I was jealous of her. I was jealous of the fact that she had Spencer, who adored her, when my mom didn't seem to care whether or not I lived or died. I was envious that my best friend had a load of cash to go shop with while I was dirt poor; the only money I got was the paychecks that I spent working at odd jobs every once in awhile. I was jealous of Carly's fair complexion and rich brunette hair and curvy yet thin figure, while I was given the leftovers, or so it seemed. I ground my teeth over the fact that Carls got all the boys to adore her and sink to their knees in worship of her while every guy on the planet either treated me as a dude or a potentially fatal disease. Of course I was jealous.

And jealousy sucked. I loved my best friend like my delectable and rare Bolivian bacon (it changes you) and yet sometimes I wished that she would simply vanish out of my life and let me take the spotlight for once.

Well, I had the spotlight now, but the price was fatal. And probably permanent, I thought as the tears budded in my vision. _Puckett's don't cry. I am strong. I can handle this. _

Now if only I could actually believe that.

* * *

A minute later I felt Marissa apply the brakes and a few moments later the car came to a comfortable stop. Freddie let out a tense breath, kneeding his hands together as moisture gathered in the corners of his eyes once more. We must be at the cemetery, I realized, as my breathing began to speed up, nerves taking over. My heart began to ache, a pain that I couldn't even begin to describe no matter if I wanted to or not. Heartbreak is one of those indescribable emotions, I decided with a deep breath to steady my strained posture. I took a couple more seconds that felt like hours to breathe in and out, preparing myself for the agony that I knew was about to come, the sights I would have to view.

Melding through the trunk of the car I squinted my eyes down into narrow slits, my blue gaze shimmering in my shaded caverns. My arms wrapped loosely around my petite form as I looked around me, noting the imposing buildings on either side that faded into the gated cemetary directly ahead. The dark clouds were moving in fast, creating a somber attitude about the place. I shivered, gritting my teeth to keep them from chattering as a gust of wind set my hair whipping and a flock of ravens took off into the black skies, their beady eyes landing on me. The horrible feeling had returned, its intensity sharpened.

I heard a car door slam behind me but I didn't bother to turn around. Instead my gaze sought out little details in the office apartments around me: the chocolate brown-black trim that surrounded the windows, the curved edges to the tiled roof, stuff like that, straying anywhere but the cemetary. Something about the graveyard unsettled me; there was a distinct thrum of evil bleeding out of the scene in front of me and I wished to avoid it for as long as humanely possible. Footsteps echoed on the pavement behind me but I already knew that it was Freddie and his mom heading this way. A moment later the two of them passed me, Freddie wrapped securely in his mom's arms, his eyes already red-rimmed.

I was distracted by a sudden flash of brunette hair and I turned just in time to see Carly fling her arms around Freddie's neck and bury her face into the crook between his shoulder and his neck as the sobs broke free. These weren't the fake tears that she'd been shedding after sharing the news of my death with Freddie, these were heart shattering, earth breaking tears of agonized acceptance and I felt a slight sense of empathy rush through me. Even after all that my best friend had done to push me away I couldn't help but want to comfort her. After all, what are friends for? After a moment of surprise Freddie wrapped his arms around his girlfriend, hugging her into his broad chest, his fingers petting her hair in a comforting gesture.

Backing up a few steps I watched my two friends closely, my heart hurting more and more with each passing second. I don't understand how people can survive this hopeless feeling, the feeling when you watch someone you love loving someone else, the feeling that you will never be loved. It is an all incompassing feeling, one that should easily be able to crush you in the palm of its hand. I bowed my head, my blonde ringlets spilling over my shoulders to hide my face, all my energy focused into holding back my tears as the two in front of me kissed passionately. I didn't understand how the dork could just go back to making out with Carly after she filmed an iCarly episode the day after my murder; I supposed he was making a slight concession considering that today would be hard for all of us.

Without a word I whipped around on the tips of my heels, marching determinedly away from my two best friends, each step taking a boatload of perserverence to accomplish; I was simply unable to stand them any longer, for the time being, at least. This was the same desperate feeling that I had had that night, I realized as I choked in a breath, the necessity to escape from my reality into an impass of fantasies that would temporarily carry me away from my responsibilites. This was the depression that had propelled me to walk away from Freddie in the studio after our webcast, out of Bushwell Plaza, and onto the sidewalk, trudging away from my problems. This was the maniac insanity that had led to my death. The tears pricked my eyes as I stumbled down the street, my arms still clutching my shoulders like I was freezing to death, not caring whether a car came racing down the nearly deserted street or not. It would just pass right through me.

This must be how it feels to live an entire life in prison, to be isolated in a tiny cell with a grimy cot in the corner while the hope slowly bleeds out of your eyes, leaving them vacant and unseeing. It is an awful feeling, isolation. I now see how the men and women that go to prison emerge insane, covered in claw marks present from their own sharp nails. Seclusion robs the mind of all reason.

I wondered how long this could go on, how long I would be stuck here as a ghost, unable to be seen. Would I go insane and try to hurt myself, or worse?. I didn't understand why this had happened to me. I mean, yeah, I wasn't the greatest student in the world, okay, I was one of the worst students in the Ridgeway. But I didn't murder anyone, or do anything life threatening. How could God damn me to this living hell?

"I'll catch up with you later, Freddie-bear," I heard my co-host mumble and my eyebrows rose quizically.

"Um, okay? Where are you going?" Freddie questioned, his tone hoarse from lack of speech.

"Nowhere special," his girlfriend reassured him, and I was broken out of my thoughts by the sound of feet pounding on the sidewalk, transitioning onto the cement sidewalk a moment later. I chanced a glance to my right, my eyes narrowing as I saw Freddie and his mom entering the cemetery, huddled in each other's arms once more, but Carly was no longer accompanying them. _Where the hell did she go?_

My head turned the other direction, my oceanic orbs probing the sidewalk to my left and suddenly I spotted her. She was sneaking down pedestrian road, looking towards the cemetery every few seconds, a guilty expression adorning her features. She was obviously doing something she wasn't comfortable with. My brunette better half always did carry around a hefty pile of moral codes.

Without thinking twice about the reprocussions, I began to follow her, staying to the shady side of the street even though nobody could see me. Grabbing a sombrero from the nearest tourist shop now several feet behind me I allowed it to meld into my facade, smushing my blonde ringlets as the fabric sank onto my head. Both cautions helped me feel safe.

After walking for a couple dozen feet Carly turned to the left and disappeared straight into the wall paralleling the sidewalk. My eyebrows furrowed in confusion as I trailed towards the spot she had moved out of my perceptive vision. Unless she had suddenly become a ghost like me there was no way…and that's when I saw it. My eyes widened to the size of ping pong balls as I saw the opening in the wall; this hadn't been eroded over time, considering this was a brick wall, but it was clearly possible that someone had built it in without anyone else knowing. It was really slim, probably only wide enough to fit one person at a time, and a skinny person at that. It was the perfect size for someone like Carly to squeeze through. A vision of elementary school children squeezing through the gap to a "secret hiding place" brought a brief smile to my face before my realistic side doused it out like a bucket of cold water thrown on a cat.

I turned sideways, exhaling sharply to empty my lungs and flatten out my stomach before cautiously slipping into the opening. My skin stung as it rubbed against the wall and got scraped up but I blocked out the little shoots of pain, my best friend still at the head of my mind. I took in a shaky breath as I focused on the task at hand, continuing onward, my eyes following the weaving slit as it continued on and then jutted towards the right. I took in a heavy breath, telling myself that I couldn't be hurt so there was no problem in me following her. I kept going and just as I was about to turn the bend I heard a rough voice yelling at what I assumed was Carly.

Shrinking as tightly as I could against the wall I covered my mouth with the flat of my palm to keep in exclaimations and various curses as I tilted my head sideways, giving me a clear view of Carly cowering under a tall person covered in a black spy suit and mask. I assumed it was a guy from the low, rough tone of voice. His arms were tightly crossed but a thin strip around his wrist had been cut off, revealing an Ouroboros tattoo that snaked around his lower arm and hand. I shivered as I saw the head of the serpant devouring its own tail, a symbol of a new dawn or something like that.

"I told you to come ten minutes ago!" The man in the mask hissed, slapping Carly hard against the face, leaving a red mark stretching across her whole left cheek. She fell to the ground, clutching the now flaming skin, tears soaking her dark brown eyelashes. I fought the original instinct to rush out there and beat the crap out of the dude who dared touch my best friend, remembering that I was helpless to do anything.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, her voice trembling with fatigue and terror of the man standing above her, "I got held up by Freddie and his stupid mom. I have to keep up my act for them. I won't be late again, I promise." Her teeth clamped shut together as his hand connected with her other cheek, his Rolex gold watch digging into her skin and ripping out a chunk. I felt my jaw figuratively hit the ground as I gaped in disbelief; how could Carly say something like that, especially considering how important the Bensons were to her?

"You'd better not be." The man's right arm reached out, his meaty fingers digging into the silky material of my best friend's violet colored, low-cut dress, dragging her to her feet, and muttered threateningly, "Now, you know the plan. Screw it up and you'll have hell to pay! And the price not only covers you, but your nerdy friend Freddie and your brother, Spencer too!" His fingers tightened over her chest, his fingers roughly kneeding the brunette's perky breasts.

Carly nodded frantically, struggling to break out of his too tight grasp, her whole body shaking horrendously. Tears spilled over her eyelids, streaming down her cheeks in waves as she choked out,"I won't let you down. I promise." She groaned as he kneed her in the stomach, probably leaving a nasty bruise, before stalking hurriedly away from her, a sneer etched onto his face.

Tons of images raced across my mind, from that guy holding a gun to her head, to him raping her in the middle of the night, as I peeled off the wall a few moments later, secure in the thought that the masked guy was far enough away now. I couldn't even begin to imagine the possibilites of the terrible things he'd done to my best friend; crimes that would surely land him in the slammer until he perished. The urge to help Carly resurfaced, nearly sinking me to my knees in anguish; to be powerless was the worst feeling in the world. That man could kill her if he wanted to, and I couldn't let that happen. I had to find a way to keep my brunette co-host safe, no matter what the cost was to me personally.

Carly let out a sob, sinking against the edge of the crevice as she buried her face in her arms. Her brunette waves fell over her shoulders like a luscious waterfall, covering her face from my view, but I could hear the gut-wrenching cries emitting from her lips. For a minute she just let all the tears out in a rush and I felt panic overtake me as she didn't budge. I could hear her breathing in sharp, shallow pants, reassuring me that she was indeed alive, and that alone kept me from rushing around like a crazy banshee.

Finally, my best friend's sobs turned to sniffles and she rubbed her nose and the underset of her dark encircled eyes, brushing away all the mucas and tears that would give her away. Rising unsteadily to her feet, Carly stumbled wearily out of the gap in the wall, her head still hanging low as she trudged towards my funeral; at least the occasion gave her a perfectly good excuse to be a crying wreck, I noted with a touch of sympathy.

My mind wasn't making sense anymore, I realized, grimacing as I followed the brunette back towards the non-shady part of town. Vagabonds and homeless people watched us (well, Carly) with curious expressions, followed with a barrage of swear words in her direction, nearly setting me off again. This was my best friend I was talking about. She had literally cheered when she'd heard about my death and then filmed an iCarly behind everyone's backs. How could God expect me to help her?

The flare of terror and foreboding entered my heart as I saw the masked guy wink at Carly before slipping into a black convertible and revving the machine to life before speeding away, and that's when I knew. Shooting the man's car a dirty glance I continued tracing my best friend. Something was telling me that he was more dangerous than anyone or anything I'd ever dealed with before. My consciousness prodded me impatiently, telling me that I had to get Carly and Freddie away from him.

And so I would.

* * *

I tailed Carly all the way back towards the cemetery gates, unwilling to let my best friend out of my sight for even the slightest moment. The brunette ahead of me was still clearly shaken from the scene I had observed but a moment before. She ran a hand through her dark layers, pausing for a moment to let out a harsh breath, combined with the slightest hint of a sob. Whoever that evil man was, he had terrified her completely.

I felt my hands ball into fists as I thought about that man in the spy outfit. Who the hell could he possibly be? It had to be someone that Carly knew, otherwise why would they bother terrorizing her, unless they were a serial killer and they didn't care who they hurt. But if I thought about it that way then it could be anyone around me. It could be the guy from FBI's most wanted, for God's sake. How the hell was I supposed to figure out who he was?

Not to mention, what the heck did he want? Did he want Carly to rob a bank and get him some cash or something? I seriously doubted my first theory, though. Criminals are pros when it comes to breaking into buildings, thus the term criminal. So, that probably ruled out people that I didn't know. So then who was it? The only other people Carly hung out with were from school and her neighbors in the apartment complex. Who would want to hurt someone so innocent as my best friend, the straight A student and the girl who never lies?

I slid through the cemetery gates towards my funeral after Carly, whose head was still bowed, probably in shock more than anything. _My funeral_, I thought grimly, wrapping my arms tighter around my petite frame, trying to keep the chilling temperature out of my bones, mentally slapping myself for not bringing a wrap-around or a decent coat. The thought of a coat reminded me that I was still donning the fabulously anti-chic sombrero and with a crooked yet sad smile I ripped it off, allowing it to float to the earthen floor where some random passerby would see it and wonder why someone would just leave a perfectly good hat on the ground. I had no use for the accessory anymore.

I wished, for the thousand-millionth time that this wasn't happening; I wished that I could be sitting on Carly's couch right now, arguing with Freddison about which channel to watch. At least then I would feel somewhat normal. Now I just feel like a freak of nature.

My eyes lit up slightly as I saw Freddie looking around for someone, and then dimmed as Carly ran back into his arms, burying her face into the side of his neck. I shouldn't feel so jealous at a time like this, I mean all he's doing is trying to comfort his girlfriend, which she must desperately need after her little encounter with the Masked Assassin (like the name? I came up with it myself.) There is no need for me to get all emotional about this. I could faintly hear comforting words spilling out of Freddie's lips, and I knew that he was attempting to calm the shaking girl in his arms. Carly must be scared out of her mind right now, I rationalized.

Various disgruntled murmers echoed from my left and I turned to find the source of the sound, only to see the one person that paid a normal visit to my nightmares, Missy Robinson. She was different, that was for sure, and yet disturbingly the same. Her auburns locks hung down to just past her waist, waving slightly as they caressed her petite form. She'd added several black and velvet green highlights to her hair, however, marking it in a dark infused light. A midnight black dress hugged her body in all the right places, showing off her curves, the hem of the designer gown ending several inches above her kneecaps. Platform heels studded with jewels flaunted her muscular yet thin legs and a necklace and earrings only drew the attention to the sexiest parts on her body, a fact that set my teeth gritting. The demon had definitely slimmed up since I'd last seen her several years ago, but she was almost too thin, an anorexic disorder I could point out a mile away. Her glimmering green orbs were sunk deep into her head, tinged with malice and desperation. She looked haunted, nearly destroyed and yet so powerful at the same time.

Missy rushed over as fast as she could considering the height to her heels to where Freddie and Carly were embracing and tapped Carly's shoulder, a sickeningly sweet smile drawing up the corners of her mouth, and yet I could see instantly that she was faking the whole act. She always played a nice girl part around innocent, little Carly, just so she wouldn't become suspicious.

I could hear her mumble, "Hey Shay," in her beautific actor voice before Carly started sobbing all over again and threw herself into the red-haired devil's arms. Missy began soothingly stroking the brunette's back in little circles, her smirk obvious from my vantage point. Freddie couldn't see it, however, she _would_ make sure of that.

Why do I hate Missy so much, you must ask?

Two years ago when I was a sophomore at Ridgeway, Missy tried every possible attempt to expel me from school so that she could steal Freddie. Don't ask me why she did this, I mean, Freddie and I were practically enemies at this period in time. She gave me rancid chocolate and then stole Carly away from me and she almost succeeded in taking Freddie as well, but somehow she couldn't. Freddie took my side in the matter and then, without my knowing, he won the School at Sea trip and then gave it away to Missy so that I could be free of her for six whole months. I never got to tell the dork how much that simple act meant to me. Freddelin could have simply started dating Missy and avoided me and I probably would be expelled and living in the streets right now.

After her School at Sea trip Missy had transfered to a private school in the heart of Seattle, a rich kid's academy from the looks of it. We hadn't seen her since, until now.

I rolled my eyes as Carly and Missy started talking animatedly about something insignificant and then a smile grazed my lips as I saw Freddie scowl at the two girls. He clearly still disliked Missy as much as I did, and I was glad that he still stuck up for me even after I was gone. _Heh, there are still some uses to the dork, I guess._

I forced myself to look away from the trio as the peal of a bell rang out, stilling the murmurs of the crowd around me. _Time for the funeral to start. _I gulped audibly, wringing my hands together. A pastor that I'd never met during my seventeen years of life stepped up beside my grave, dressed in a full length dusky blue robe, several embroidered ribbons wrapping around the back of his neck before branching out to lie flat on the chest of the robe. Like the typical monks in a fairy tale his hair had receded to a half circle around his shiny head.

The pastor paused for a moment, lifting his hands solemnly in the direction of the crowd, his expression beseeching. "Today, we grieve the death of Samantha Jeanette Puckett and remember what a joy she was to the world around her." His fingers skimmed over the iluminated cover of his New International Addition of the Bible and slowly cracked it open to the Psalms.

"Samantha's family have selected these verses to be read for everyone gathered here." After another lengthy paused he started to read in a soft clear voice that dripped with humble intent.

"_The Lord is my shepherd;_

_I have all that I need,_

_He lets me rest in green meadows; _

_He leads me beside peaceful streams."_

I found my furious and on edge emotions slowly simmer down to the point where I could rein them back in and control them, just the way I like it. All because of that little black book. My oceanic orbs combed over the calligraphied print on the moth-eaten pages, relishing each syllable that spilled forth from the pastor's tongue; he seemed to bring the words to life in a way that struck me right in the heart and immobilized me.

"_He renews my strength._

_He guides me along right paths,_

_bringing honor to his name."_

"_Even when I walk,_

_Through the dark valley of death,_

_I will not be afraid,_

_For you are close beside me."_

I felt myself move as if in a trance; my limbs slowly relaxed as I gazed around at all the people who were here to send me off. Tears were streaming down Carly's face as she collapsed onto the ground, her tortured brown orbs fixed on my grave and beside her Freddie was closely watching the pastor, moisture glimmering like dew in his chocolate iris'. He wore an emotionless expression, something I rarely ever saw from our tech nerd.

"_Your rod and your staff _

_Protect and comfort me,_

_You prepare a feast for me,_

_in the presence of my enemies."_

"_You honor me by anointing my head with oil._

_My cup overflows with blessings._

_Surely your goodness and_

_Unfailing love will pursue me _

_All the days of my life,_

_and I will live in the house of the Lord _

_forever."_

I fell to my hands and knees on the ground, my fingertips stretching beneath the soil to where life resided below; at least life remained somewhere, if not in my own body. Minutes passed before I grasped enough strength to crawl towards the place where my human body lay buried beneath the Earth, moved as if by an unnatural and yet beautiful force. Tears were already gathering in my eyes as I sank onto the freshly dug up lawn beside the gravestone marking my name. My fingers moved over the earth there, freezing deep within the dirt as they connected with a cold human hand: my hand, my lifeless, cold hand. Shudders wracked my form as a tear worked out of the corner of my right eye, splashing to the ground where it would saturate my unmoving corpse.

"_This is why I tell you not to worry about everyday life – _

_Whether you have enough food and drink, _

_Or enough clothes to wear._

_Isn't life more than food,_

_and your body more than clothing?"_

My body slumped into the smooth grass as the words of the pastor continued to ring in my ears like a sweet lullaby, my head dropping with a thud onto the lawn. Hopelessness surged through me for a moment and the tears began to roll slowly down my face, a song bleeding through each one until they left my face and sank into the soil. "I'm really gone," I whispered to myself, a sob ripping out of my chest as I finally accepted my death. _Gone. _The word sounded so permanent.

"_Look at the birds._

_They don't plant or harvest or store food in barns,_

_for your heavenly Father feeds them._

_And aren't you far more valuable to him than they are?_

_Can all your worries add a single moment to your life?"_

"_And why worry about your clothing?_

_Look at the lilies of the field and how they grow._

_They don't work or make their clothing,_

_yet Solomon in all his glory was not dressed as beautifully as they are."_

After a few moments I turned so that I was lying flat on my back, my fingertips still pressed into the earth under my barely stirring ghostly form. Tears still streaked down my cheeks, but as my oceanic orbs connected with the bright, dazzling sun overhead, a ray of peace sifted down, sinking into every particle of my being, soaking me with hope and reassurance. I shivered under the amazing spectacle, the pastor's words still ringing like a life-raft that was my only key to survival. Each utterance from his lips sent another tremor wracking through me until I was convulsing on the ground. _Gone, am I really gone? There has to be something more..._

"_And if God cares so wonderfully for wildflowers _

_that are here today and thrown into the fire tomorrow,_

_he will certainly care for you._

_Why do you have so little faith?"_

For the first time in what felt like eternity I felt the strain of my death lift off my shoulders and in the clouds shone a vision of me not too long ago. I was leaning towards Freddie on the fire escape, my eyes alit with nervousness and insecurity, his chocolate brown orbs much the same. As our lips connected in the vision I could almost swear I felt his mouth on mine again, and tingles ran through me, pleasant ones this time. Golden light spilled from the heavens once more, bathing me in the Lord's protective arms for just a second. Then, the vision was gone.

"_So don't worry about these things, _

_Saying 'What will we eat? What will we drink? What will we wear?'_

_These things dominate the thoughts of unbelievers,_

_but your heavenly Father already knows all your needs._

_Seek the kingdom of God above all else, _

_and live righteously,_

_and he will give you everything you need."_

My eyes fluttered closed for a second and I could almost imagine that I was living once more, but this time I knew it was a fantasy. I had a purpose here, one that had to be fulfilled before my two weeks was up. And this time, I was determined. _Maybe...just maybe...there's still hope left._

"_So don't worry about tomorrow,_

_for tomorrow will bring its own worries._

_Today's trouble is enough for today."_

"Dear most heavenly Father," the pastor began in the same quiet tone and I latched onto every word he spoke, my eyes still shut tight, "We come before you today to both mourn and praise the death of Samantha Jeanette Puckett. We sorrow at the loss of one so young, one who's whole life was still laid out in front of them. And yet, we also praise that Samantha has gone up to be with you in your perfect kingdom. We know that she will be missed, but we also know with certainty that she is blessed in your arms. God Bless, Amen."

My eyes connected with the trio in front of me and I felt my chest tighten as I saw them hugging. Carly was sobbing her eyes out, her brunette locks nearly obscuring her face. Missy's expression was one of blank disinterest. _I don't want them to cry, I want them to be happy for me, and understand that I have a chance to come back to them!_

And then, I saw Freddie and my whole world seemed to crash in front of my very eyes. He stood still, looking up at the place where my corpse lay resting beneath the Earth, something that I couldn't place buried in his eyes. The tears were streaming slowly down his face, but he seemed to be in a peace that I couldn't describe. _What have I done to you?_

"Would anyone like to say some words about Samantha Puckett?" The pastor asked, looking around the crowd as heads bowed in discouragement. I felt sorrow come over me as nobody raised their hands; several of my classmates from school faded away, probably back to their Corvettes and BMVs, while others only shook their heads in declination.

Finally, a hand shot up, and a relieved smile stretched across my face as I saw that it had been Carly who'd offered. The pastor smiled encouragingly, beckoning her over to him, his hands reaching to gently clasp her shoulders in a comforting embrace. My best friend brushed away a fresh round of tears from spilling down her cheeks before stepping up to the podium. My fingers knotted together as I waited for the words to come, praying that everything would be okay between the two of us. I didn't know what I'd do if Carls hated me.

Carly looked around at all the people nervously, brushing one side of her part behind her right ear before coughing to clear her throat. Chuckling nervously, she began in a wavering tone. "How to describe Sam? Well I guess there's a lot of things I could say about her, but I'll only say a few. First of all, Sam was the best friend any girl could have. She was funny and smart, even though she didn't admit it to anyone. She's the only girl I knew that could eat a whole ham in two minutes flat." Carly stopped to take in a deep breath, and I smiled to myself. She didn't sound mad so far.

And that's when things took a turn for the worst.

Carly's tortured eyes filled with tears and as much as she tried to halt their progress they streamed down her shrunken cheeks, ruining what was left of her carefully applied makeup. Streaks of mascara and supposedly water-proof misty blue eyeliner swept to the sides of her cheekbones, resembling Indian war patches. The same foreboding feeling as I had in Freddie's apartment attacked me, worse this time, nearly forcing me to shout from the amount of pressure it was exerting. I knew in that moment that something was going to go very wrong, and I couldn't do anything to stop it.

Missy's venomous green orbs were glaring figurative needles into my best friend and I forced myself to look away from the she-demon. It did no good to get myself worked up over nothing. I looked back up at my best friend, praying with my eyes for nothing to go amiss. at the same time admitting that there was no way to halt this trainwreck.

Carly swallowed hard and then muttered in a hoarse tone thick with guilt and agony, "I can't believe that my best friend is really dead. Sam meant the world to me. We – we had plans set up all the way up till we were eighty years old and now, it's all come to nothing. But you know what I can't seem to process?" Carly stopped to look over the crowd, and I saw a brief flicker of darkness flit through her brown eyes. The same darkness I'd seen in the Masked Assassin's rough gaze. "I can't seem to believe that my best friend would actually commit suicide."

I felt my heart sink and my eyes widened until I feared they'd burst. _God, no. How could she do something like this? I trusted her! She was my best friend! _

Carly was bending over across the podium, sobs of guilt and remorse wrenching out of her as she gripped the wood with fingers like claws, leaving her a quivering shell of her former self. To my right Freddie tensed, his mouth agape in a silent exclaimation of utter disbelief, or anger - probably both considering the circumstances.

There was something terribly wrong about this situation, I realized, as the crowd gasped simultaneously. Carly wouldn't, couldn't say something like that about me. She was too much of a sweetheart...she couldn't hate me that much. But I saw the darkness enter her eyes again, sliding in a slithery pattern around her stormy iris', and I saw with dreadful certainty that she very well could hate me that much. _Who...what did this to her? _

Carly bowed her head, hiding her face from the audience, way too past the point to say much more than a choked out phrase, "I'll miss you Sam." Without another word to anyone she fled the cemetery, the tears streaming down her pale cheeks. Freddie rushed off after her, calling her name, and Missy just stood there, smirking evilly. She had something to do with this, I just knew she did. But now, I was more confused than ever. I thought the guy in the ski mask was the one behind all the trouble. But was he?

In between all my questions was the underlying agony that Carly's speech had given me - it was like someone had taken a dagger and thrust it mercilessly into my heart, draining the life out of me. I couldn't begin to comprehend this turn of events. My defeated gaze connected with the ragged cover of the very familiar book lying abandoned on the podium, tears staining the pages. Carly's tears, I realized with a jolt of pain. My fingers brushed over the Bible, soaking in any possible comfort it might hold for me now, but there was none. It felt like I was all alone.

Through the haze in my mind I heard someone familiar mumble behind me, "I still can't believe I have to be Sam Puckett's guardian angel!"

I whirled instantly, my eyes connecting with the person in front of me as I gaped senselessly. First my best friend betrays me and now this? I couldn't believe God would actually give me this horrific person as my guardian angel. Either I did something really horrible while I was alive or the Lord just really loathes me. "You?" I shrieked.

**SPARKNOTES:**

**_(clever, I know. Get it? mktoddsparky? sparknotes? yeah? oh whatever, you'll get it eventually)_**

**_The definition of an ouroburos, in case you were wondering: _**

The **Ouroboros** or **Uroborus**[1] is an ancient symbol depicting a serpent or dragon swallowing its own tail and forming a circle.

The Ouroboros often represents self-reflexivity or cyclicality, especially in the sense of something constantly re-creating itself, the eternal return, and other things perceived as cycles that begin anew as soon as they end (compare with phoenix). It can also represent the idea of primordial unity related to something existing in or persisting from the beginning with such force or qualities it cannot be extinguished. The ouroboros has been important in religious and mythological symbolism, but has also been frequently used in alchemical illustrations, where it symbolizes the circular nature of the alchemist's opus. It is also often associated with Gnosticism, and Hermeticism.

Carl Jung interpreted the Ouroboros as having an archetypal significance to the human psyche.[_citation needed_] The Jungian psychologist Erich Neumann writes of it as a representation of the pre-ego "dawn state", depicting the undifferentiated infancy experience of both mankind and the individual child.[2]

**Alright, I hope you guys enjoyed that! Again, I wanted to make the funeral scene but I keep getting new ideas and this chapter was already too long, so yeah. Funeral next chapter, I promise! And I will be inviting a new character in and they will be Sam's guardian angel. Any guesses who it is?**

**Anyways, before you go on and read the next installment episode, I need to thank a couple people. **

**1) ****Thanks to all of you who answered my question: Do you think Freddie should see Sam in one scene? **

**You all voted….YES! So, I promise, there will be a Freddie and Sam interaction, just not the way you think.**

**2) ****I want to thank xXJennetteMccurdyIlOvEyOuXx for spending some time to send me long reviews. She deserves a long round of applause from all you Seddie fans out there; she gave me the idea of Freddie seeing Sam. So, leave her a comment or something thanking her. I, mktoddsparky, personally thank you for taking some of your valuable time to give me tons of feedback. You rock!**

**3) ****Now, you all saw me asking for people who could help me make trailers, right? Well, a couple people responded and I chose one of them. xFairy-of-Twilightx, known on youtube as AngelDemon101 has made a trailer for this story and you can find it here: www . youtube . com/watch?v=zI8Yzn-aM5M (eliminate the spaces.) You're amazing for doing this! Here, I am sending you a mental truck of imaginary cookies. May they satisfy your chocolate cravings! Also, I want to thank you again for showing me how I could post video clips on Youtube and now my videos will be three million times better. I can't thank you enough!**

**4) ****To the rest of my readers and reviewers. You guys are all awesome and I'm really glad you chose to read my stories. You are the reason I keep writing, you inspire me every single day, and I want to thank each and every one of you!**

**Well, now that I've talked your ears off, please click the arrow to go to the next installment of Remember Me!**


	7. Part Six

****

****

Remember Me Part 6

**Hey guys! You guys had some really good guesses about who could be Sam's guardian angel, but unfortunately most of you were way off, lol. But that's okay, because you can just go and read this chapter and then you'll know! So, I hope you guys enjoy this one, and please review. I love your reviews, I really do. **

**To answer some of your comments and questions: **

**xXJennetteMccurdyIlOvEyOuXx: Thank you x10 for the shout out! I'm so grateful XD This chapter was amazing – I must admit I had tears in my eyes when the pastor was talking, and I never cry at stories. It was so beautiful, and I'm not even that religious. You have a talent of making your stories really real – I can't help but get engulfed into it.**

**Please update soon, I really want to know who the guardian angel is! Thanks again! X**

_**Reply: I'm really glad that you like the story. Thank you so much for inspiring so many of the ideas in Remember Me; you are one of my top reviewers! I hope you enjoy this chapter!**_

**likeomglikehiii: Oh wow, I love this story! Somehow I think Carly and that man have something to do with her death. Maybe that man murdered her, the spy, I mean, and told her to say that Sam committed suicide. Loving the story!**

_**Reply: Thank you so much for this review! It made me smile. You're actually really perceptive and I applaud you. I hope that you enjoy the rest of the plot in this story!**_

**I'm planning to reply to, like, one or two fans every chapter, it depends on the length of the review. Now that I've again talked your ears off, please enjoy this chapter! **

_"Wow Freddie that is an amazing flashlight costume." Sam rolled her eyes sarcastically._

_"Yeah, yeah." Freddie looked down for a moment, admitting defeat for that particular fight. He couldn't exactly argue with the blonde-headed devil while he was stuck in this stupid flashlight costume._

_"And look," Sam's eyes lit up for the briefest moment, "It actually works!" She flipped on the light switch on Freddie's costume, turning on the bulb, and grinning at the camera._

_"Now wish the people a merry Christmas, Freddie," Carly chastised him, smirking slightly at her two best friends._

_Freddie sighed melodramatically, "I wish you all a…"_

_"Too slow!" Sam yelled, pushing Freddie off to the side and laughing as she heard him grunt in disapproval. _

_Carly rolled her eyes in exasperation but turned back to the camera, "We wish you all a very merry Christmas!" She waited until Freddie turned off the camera before letting the smile slide off her face. Pulling off her Santa hat she prepared to leave the studio, "Sam, help Freddie out of the flashlight costume."_

_Sam crossed her arms in indignation, "But…"_

_"Sam!" Carly gave her friend a dangerous look through narrowed eyes before exiting the studio, slamming the door behind her._

_"Okay, let's get you out of that thing. Come here." She motioned Freddie over to her, and then said, "Lie down."_

_Freddie gave her a pleading look as he prepared to fall back into what he hoped was her waiting arms. He let himself fall and then groaned as he fell past Sam, who was smirking at him, and hit the beanbag chair with a groan of pain._

_Sam looked away, "Well….goodbye." She gave him a last smirk before exiting the studio and leaving him lying there trapped in the flashlight costume. _

_"Oh my gosh!" Carly started freaking out, "There's a spider!"_

_"Where?" Freddie looked down at himself, confused._

_"On your cheek!" Carly pointed at the tech nerd's face and shuddered as Sam hissed, "And your bad luck begins."_

_"Ha ha!" Freddie waved his arms around in the air and gave Sam a look as Carly shrieked, "I'm not kidding!"_

_"Dude, there really is a spider." Sam pointed to her own cheek and nodded slightly, her face utterly serious. Carly chimed in, still looking panicked, "Right under your eye!"_

_"Where?" Freddie swatted at his own face, "Get it off!"_

_"Okay, okay!" Carly set down her water bottle and looked at Freddie, unable to decide what to do, "Uh….uh….oh I can't, I can't, I can't!"_

_"I'll get it, I'll get it," Sam reassured the brunette beside her as she stepped towards Freddie, getting a look of utter concentration on her face. She looked into his brown eyes for the briefest second, conflicted, before slapping him against the face, knocking him to the floor._

_Carly gave Sam an incredulous look as the blonde grinned from ear to ear, "I got it."_

Instinctively I shoved my full weight into my guardian angel, knocking the horribly dressed teenager to the ground. I quickly busied myself in order to creatively release my anger by stomping my feet into the coughing figure's back, forcing the air out of his lungs and leaving him gasping for air like a fish out of water.

I know, I have violence issues, but what's a ghost to do?

"How...dare...y-you!" The struggling male spit out as I pinned him under my full weight. MMA does have it's everyday values after all, I noted with a sardonic smirk, glancing down at my prey as he writhed underneath me.

"Just having a little fun," I responded cheerfully, shifting my petite yet chunky form so that my prisoner could stretch his limbs a little.

"You are simply...crude, you know that?" My guardian angel huffed, ceasing to struggle for a minute as he noticed I'd given him a little leg room. He'd better not try and use it to his advantage, though, or I'd beat him down until he surrendered.

"Duh," My eyes did a revolving 360, shimmering with delight at being able to taunt the lad. "What else would I be? Even you can't argue that point."

"True," the boy conceded, straightening his honey blonde hair until his part was perfectly aligned and his bangs swept slightly to the left, brushing against his chubby cheek. "Now let me up!"

"I'll let you up when I feel like it," I retorted smartly, feeling a bit of the sting from Carly's speech stab into me, forcing me into a momentary paradox of indecision. After my best friend's little annoucement at the funeral I couldn't help but wonder if she'd had anything to do with my murder. If so, she was probably being forced by the Masked Assassin.

But what if there was another player in this game, I wondered with a touch of unrest. The guy who'd hurt my brunette co-host in the crevice in the brick wall didn't seem smart enough to stay focused for more than thirty seconds and so it would only make logical sense for there to be a mastermind behind my impaling. And where would they strike next? The thought sent a shiver rushing through me and my guardian angel regarded me keenly for a moment, his dark brown orbs glinting with curiosity as to what could possibly upset me this much, no doubt.

"You seem...different," he commented off-handedly, his fingers busy sweeping off the dirt from his face and neck.

"Of course I'm different," I snapped before I could shut my mouth. "I'm dead! I was murdered and now I only have a few days left until I'm gone _forever_!" My voice had risen in agitation and pitch throughout my little tantrum, catching slightly at the end.

"And holding me down helps how?" He questioned in a lilting, superior tone that I knew all too well, and hated him for it.

"Beating up dorks makes me feel better," I told him, throwing my weight back down on his stomach as I pointed out the obvious fact.

"I meant how does it help get your life back?" He continued in the same know-it-all, smartass, clear, articulative voice. It sounded like he still hadn't hit puberty from my reckoning; what was he, fifteen, sixteen now? _What a nub._

My eyes narrowed as I glared down at him. "Maybe God wants me to kill my guardian angel to come back to life. Besides, I don't even know if I can come back to life after dying. It's not logical!" I pointed out, clenching my fists into the material of his sweater vest as I did so.

"Who said this deal was logical?" My guardian angel asked impishly, sucking in a tiny breath as I pressed more of my weight on his abdomen.

"You're really annoying me," I growled, smirking as his face began to turn first bright pink and then purple from lack of oxygen.

"You know," he choked out, his skin now a faint blue. "Maybe if you let me up I could help you. Besides, you're squishing my diaphram." He mumbled impertinently and reluctantly I loosened my hold. For once in his life the boy was right; I might possibly need his help and if I killed him that wouldn't do much good, now would it?

Nevel Papperman gave me a disgruntled look as he slowly made his way to a standing position, his fingers flying to dust off his beige colored pants, and shuffled his feet across the ground, "Look, I'm not any more excited than you are about this."

His eyes widened and a little pouty noise escaped past his pushed out lips as he discovered a new tear in the thick material, about the size of a dime, length wise. Nothing a little sewing job couldn't fix. "Just great...just what I needed," he muttered under his breath, turning away from me.

I rolled my eyes, my hands running regimently through my blonde ringlets; I had just taken a shower that morning in Freddie's room, although it felt like forever ago, but already my hair was beginning to knot together and form random split ends. "You're worse than you were two months ago," I warbled, collapsing on my butt on the ground with a slight oomph, my hands moving to remove these annoying heels. Once they were off I let out a sigh of relief, massaging my aching toes, noting that calluses now coated the sides and bottom of my feet.

"As are you," Nevel orchestrated dully, turning slowly to face me once more, his face a mask of irritation and fatigue.

"Again, I have an excuse. Dead, remember?" I chastised the nerd, my hair drifting over my shoulders to silently caress my pale cheeks.

"I got it after you told me for the fourth time," Papperman responded cheekily, glowering in my direction as his cheeks faded to a dusty red, a combination of embaressment and anger.

God must really hate me to give me someone like Nevel as my guardian angel, I determined with a sigh, my hand rubbing my forehead in a vague attempt to rid myself of his teeth clamping headache. "Uh…not to be rude…" I began, having every intention to degrade him.

The boy turned up his nose at me, resembling an aristocratic leader, "And yet, by saying you aren't going to be rude, you only confirm that you are, in fact, probably going to pummel me to the ground once more and ruin my new shirt." He ran a hand fondly down his blue and white checked sweater that looked like it had been manufactured back in the eighteenth century. I mean, what store sells this crap, Old-R-us?

I scoffed at him, my head pounding, probably from over-exposure to the sun or too much exercise. I was done bothering to be patient with the nub any longer. "Fine, you caught me. Just tell me why the hell you're my fairy godmother so we can go our separate ways!" I shouted hopefully, having the feeling that my wishes were about to be dashed.

The dork rolled his brown eyes and fixated his gaze on me, looking slightly awkward in my intimidating presence. The thought of the word "dork," combined with the fact that Nevel's eyes were a similar color to _his _chocolate brown pools sent a warm flush to suffuse my cheeks, combined with the sinking feeling that nearly always accompanied these moments. A powerful yearning began to build in my chest, and my hand automatically gripped the area right around where my heart would be as I felt it ache. As I pictured Freddie's face in my mind for a second I had trouble breathing; it was impossible to describe the desolate feeling. _I can't miss him, damn it! That's not how this is supposed to work._

"First of all, I'm your guardian angel, not your fairy godmother. That term is just plain degrading, and I will not tolerate it!" The teenage boy standing across from me whined, breaking me out of my desperate thoughts and instantly I snapped the un-caring mask back onto my face, hiding every inch of my pain from my serious oceanic orbs. I gritted my teeth, banishing the image of _my dork _from my mind, and focused on the task at hand.

Nevel was meticulously inspecting his recently manicured nails; his attention had slipped from my face as soon as he'd spotted my rosy blush. I just hoped that he didn't know the reason for my sudden distraction.

Figuring that it was about time to put the nub back in his rightful, lowly place my arm shot out and my fingers closed around his puny upper arm, squeezing tightly. I let a smirk slide onto my face as Nevel winced. "I can call you whatever I want, got it Nubberman?" I snarled, glaring down at the petrified boy.

"I do not appreciate the name calling, Samantha." Nevel rubbed his arm as I released it, wincing slightly. "That Benson boy may tolerate your vicious behavior, but I most certainly will not!"

At the mere mention of Freddie's name I froze again, indecision flaring briefly across my face before I composed it into an ambiguous mask once more. But Nevel had already seen my falter and his victorious smirk faded into a surprisingly sympathetic smile. "I knew you loved him," he remarked softly, eyeing me up and down until I squirmed in discomfort.

"L-love him?" I stuttered, my eyes shooting open in shock. "Hardly. I can barely stand the dork." I lied with a straight face, inwardly cursing my cowardice on the matter. I didn't exactly know how to phrase my feelings for a certain tech producer, and I was already uncomfortable enough on the whole relationship topic, even in death. Maybe it had to do with the fact that Carly would always steal a guy from me before I could correctly determine my intake on the matter at hand.

"A-huh. You just keep telling yourself that," Nevel told me, shifting his footing, his gaze boring into my unsettled orbs. "You'll figure out the truth sooner or later." He stated confidently, brushing off the death glare I shot him.

"Right, you're some kind of love guru now! Let's just get back to the task at hand," I mumbled hurriedly, the tips of my ears turning bright red with embaressment. As if on cue my eyes slid down to tiny crevices, and I continued my deadly staring in his direction, "Call me Samantha one more time and you won't have a face anymore, I promise you that!"

My fingers stretched up towards my neck and I symbolized cutting off my head from my shoulders, a rugged noise emitting from my throat as I did so.

Nevel's eyes widened slightly at my threat, although he tried to hide the fact that I was quickly backing him a corner, the intersecting streets named Terrified Lane and Frightened Alley. Just where I wanted him.

"Now, let's get down to business. Why the hell are you my fairy godmother or whatever it's called!" I shot him another glare as he prepared to make a dimwitted comment about the whole fairy godmother thing and he closed his mouth. _Smart boy._

Papperman planted his hands on his hips in a valiant superhero pose before replying in that whiny tone that I despised, "Close your rebellious mouth for a moment and I'll explain everything to you."

I gasped, outraged at his surprisingly bold comment and before I could really think about the consequences my arm swept at an angle from my right hip towards his stomach, knocking the air out of him as my fist knocked him to the ground; his body kicked up a dirt cloud and it weaved mystique patterns in the air around us. _I hoped that I ruined his pants_, I thought to myself, crossing my arms as I leaned over him menacingly, "What did I tell you about insulting me, dorkwad?"

Nevel let out a little-babyish cry as he scrambled to his feet and his hands roamed his entire outfit, setting up the idea that he was groping himself, almost, searching frantically for any single speck of dirt that could be unearthed - haha, get it? dirt...un_earth_ed_, _I'm good, I know.

A shrill wail echoed around the graveyard as the nerd saw a slight stain on the seat of his pants; it looked like a mold infestation, all green and slimy, and I almost said that out loud, just to tick him off. "You ruined my new pants, Puckett! I swear, I will have my mother call up my lawyer and I will sue you for this!" He rambled heatedly.

I rolled my eyes, "Calm down, you're almost as bad as Freddork, I swear! Besides, I'm technically dead, you or your precious mommy can't sue me." I replied impertinently, grinning for the first time in hours as the boy twitched agitatedly. He was just bursting to start shouting at me. Pausing to go over what I wished to know, I began firing a barrage of questions at him.

"How are you my guardian angel? Aren't you still alive? Why are you out of all people my fairy person? Does God just hate me or something? Do you know who murdered me? Answers, Papperman, I want answers!" I exhaled heavily, my chest heaving up and down with strain.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, chill," he muttered, holding his hands out in a warding gesture. I huffed impatiently, beginning to pace back and forth on the tips of my toes.

"Well?" I asked loudly, throwing my arms up in the air. The boy was really beginning to tick me off.

Nevel crossed his arms, "I won't give you any answers until you calm down!" He was really asking for it, wasn't he now?

His comment almost pushed me over the edge. Whirling, I gripped his collar, and, lifting him high up into the air, the muscles in my arms straining, I spat through clenched teeth, "Do you have a death wish or something? Don't test me, boy!"

Nevel squirmed in the air and finally managed to wrench himself free, trembling like crazy as he did so. "I can't wait to see you behind bars, Puckett. God knows you deserve it, manhandling people everyday!"

I almost burst out laughing, his comment was so ironic, "You'd be in prison first for so many things that I don't feel like mentioning at this time. I just want answers, you little brat. So if you're not going to give them to me then I guess I'll just have to find someone else who can." I turned away from him, preparing to walk off. I was so not in the mood to deal with this.

For a moment he didn't respond and I felt sadness permeate my furious, whirling emotions. Nevel was practically my last lifeline for this whole possible second chance deal and I was walking away from it. "What do I do?" I whispered, the tears gathering in my oceanic orbs, two trailing down my cheeks.

Normally it wasn't in my nature to cry but I was practically having to accept my death all over again, this time a much harsher reality. I would be banned to hell once my time on this Earth was gone, in a pit of firy desolation and hatred and utter despair. There is no hope in hell, that I knew for sure. Freddie's image came to mind once more as I hurriedly brushed away my tears: his crooked smile and his fluffy brown hair and his chocolate brown pools that never failed to lure me in. It would do no good to either cry or remember, but I would rather deal with the pain of remembering my friends and family than nothing at all.

There was Carly and Spencer, Freddie as well; they were the one's I would miss the most once I was gone. They were already dealing with the pain of my absence but I had yet to experience the full desecration my murder had caused. I had escaped the agony so far but no longer could I run.

I guess I could lump my mom into the pot there as well, although she never really was the best parent. Every once in awhile she would feed me but for the most part I'd bummed over at the Shay's loft, pigging out on their delectable meals that occassionally caught on fire. That was an inescapable part of life when living with Spencer Cornelius Shay.

Mrs. Benson, Lewbert and my dad fell into the last catagory, those that I would recall fondly in my last moments, but wouldn't agonize over losing. These were the few that I didn't really ever connect with, especially Lewbert. I loved mocking him more than anything, but I would miss hearing his random complaints of perpertrations in his lobby. Mrs. Benson was off her nut most of the time but I loved her as a second mother, I guess, and she had her moments of wisdom.

My dad was a different story, however. He'd abandoned us when I was nine, something about my mom being too seclusive and clammed up for his liking. They'd argued for years and I'd been glad when they'd finally signed the divorce papers, but inside I wore conflicted emotions. I wanted to love the man that had helped concieve me but at the same time I felt betrayed. He'd left us, and no matter how many excuses he put up, he'd still left us, and nothing could change that.

As I was stomping angrily away I slowly became aware of a strange huffing sound from behind me. It sounded like an elephant with a trunk smushed by a dozen coconuts attempting to squeal, to be perfectly honest. As I glanced around to determine the source I felt my eyebrows furrow in confusion. Nevel was jogging in a limped fashion several feet behind me, his normally proud gaze glazed over with exhaustian from the simple exertion. _Someone's out of shape._

"Fine, I'll give you answers. I don't have a choice in the matter anyways." He called out, his wings fluttering uselessly by his shoulderblades. I felt a snort coming up and it emitted in the form of a chuckle before I could stop myself.

I stopped walking a moment later, after making the nub work a little harder to catch up, a smirk appearing on my face, "It's about time, kid. Now start talking." I fell to the ground with a loud thump beside a birch tree, stretching my arms behind my head in a relaxed fashion and leaning against the white-brown bark, my gaze drifting over the various knots in the wood, "Mama doesn't have all day, so hurry up and get to it."

Nevel paced in my direction, his expression fairly serious. He hesitated before beginning with, "I'm not allowed to give you very much information…." The classic catch, of course.

An irritated cough burst out of my quirked lips as I snapped, "Just give me what info you can!"

Nevel pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and pointer finger, squeezing his eyes shut for the briefest moment as though he were preparing an earth shattering announcement. When he began his tone was dull and clipped.

"When a person dies their body is buried into the Earth, and the soul is separated. This process shows how the body is temporary and the soul is eternal. After the soul is taken from the deceased body, it is transported to an in between state, which is where you are now. From there the soul is looked over and it is decided whether the soul has unfinished business or it is free to rest in peace forever."

I sighed melodramatically, "Move it along a little faster, buddy boy. I'm losing interest fast."

Nevel gave me a quick glare before continuing in the same monotone, "Anyways, in your case, it was decided that your soul had unfinished business, so you were left in the in between stage. Then, the Lord picks a part of the soul from a person of the opposite personality of you, and makes them your guardian angel. So, in this case…" He broke off as I scoffed in disbelief.

"In this case…." I interrupted his meticulous report, ignoring the angry look he directed my way, "since we utterly despise each other, then you become my guardian angel? "

Nevel nodded, "That is the basics of it, yes."

"You've got to be kidding me!" I snapped, fuming. "What if I don't want you to be my guardian angel, huh?" I questioned him harshly.

"In the end it is supposed to bring spiritual enlightenment to both the soul and its guardian angel," Nevel continued explaining the whole concept for a fairy godmother thing as though I hadn't interjected, the action sending figurative horns sprouting from my skull, "I don't know how such an unruly girl is supposed to change my perfect attitude, but…"

I sighed again, louder this time, "This is seriously screwed up. I don't know why the hell God didn't let me just pass into eternal peace. I think I'd like that. I would get to sleep all the time! No more alarm clocks, unlimited ham…" I mused, sinking into my own little fantasy. If only I hadn't been murdered, then I could live that little heist of imagination.

"You know, if you're going to inturrupt me all the time..." The spoiled blonde boy warned, unable to finish his sentence, for I was already interrupting him.

"Sorry," I said meekly, wincing as Papperman glowered down at me. "Continue on."

Nevel continued the report in that boring, monotonous voice that made me want to hurt small children, "The reason you are still here is because you were murdered, Sam. Your purpose is to find out who murdered you and avenge your death. You're not the only one in danger anymore."

I was about to go off on another tangent about how f-ed up this whole deal was but something in his various ramblings caught my attention. "Wait, say that one more time? The last part, I mean." I clarified, feeling like a dummy.

"You're not the only one in danger, Samantha," Nevel repeated quietly, his pacing ceasing for a moment as the words sunk into my brain and I tossed them around, trying to make sense of the implications.

"Wait, are you saying that my murderer is going to kill someone else?" I questioned him, my tone becoming sharper with each word.

"Not just anybody," the vest-clothed boy clarified, his eyes narrowing inch by inch until they were tiny slits in his face, "Someone you know and love very much."

Slowly it sunk in, leaving me breathless with a fear I wasn't aware I could experience.

"My murderer is going to try to kill Carly and Freddie," I mumbled more to myself then anybody else, but out of the corner of my left eye I saw Nevel nodding in agreement, or confirmation, of my statement.

The blonde-haired male angel looked away for a moment and I swear I saw sympathy flit across his proud gaze, but I was probably dreaming things.

When he spoke again, his voice was flat, "You must find out who your murderer is and avenge your death before it is too late. You must save Carly and Freddie." With a sad smile, he vanished into thin air, not even giving me warning about the fact that he had to go somewhere. I probably deserved that though, considering how much of a bitch I'd been acting like in the last little while.

I couldn't even move; what was the point? My murderer was out to kill my best friends now and I didn't have any idea how to prevent it. I would probably be forced to watch as my assasinator drew and quartered my loved ones into ham stew.

"This day just keeps getting crappier and crappier," I muttered despondently, my head resting on my now bent knees.

****

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**N O P O I N T O F V I E W **

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**

"What's this?" Carly wondered as she bent over Freddie's dusty laptop, her dark brown eyes glancing over every detail of the illuminated screen. Ever since Sam had died their male companion hadn't bothered to touch the iCarly equipment; the cameras, the laptop and the various extension cords were practically left to figuratively rot in the studio.

This was the brunette female's first time up here since her blonde counterpart's passing and the conflicting emotions that came with the visit were to be expected. There was pain - all the memories of their webcast segments came rushing in and nearly pummeled her to the ground with their intensity. There was sadness - above all the agony that she'd dealt with the first couple days post Sam's murder there was an underlying sadness. iCarly would never run again, of this the brunette was sure, and without the hard-headed blonde there to complete the trio their lives were pretty dull and lifeless now.

However, there was also a new feeling, a sort of incessant buzzing in Carly's chest. Exhiliration.

Her original exclaimation had been caused by the fact that the laptop was up and running when she opened the studio door, which left only Spencer and Freddie who would have turned it on. It only made sense that since Freddie was the only one with all the passwords needing to gain access to the main screen of the laptop that he would have turned it on. But now he was nowhere to be found.

Carly's smile dimmed a little as she noticed that he'd been watching an old iCarly webisode and had oh-so-conviniently paused on a close-up of Sam as she'd been hulu dancing in a 70's outfit. If the brunette remembered correctly that had been the episode where Freddie's tech friend Shane had visited and both girls had fallen head over heels for him.

So fine, he'd been watching iCarly stuff, but why pause on a close-up of your girlfriend's dead best friend? The more she thought about it the more disappointed she became in her boyfriend; they'd been going strong up until the week of Sam's death and then he'd just _changed. _

He never talked to her, his own girlfriend, the way he'd talked with Sam. He'd given away his first kiss, not to his girlfriend, but to Sam.

"When did everything change?" Carly whispered sadly, taking another glance at the freeze frame on Freddie's laptop.

* * *

**S A M ' S P O V**

* * *

I rested my arms against the railing at the end of the Santa Monica Pier, my blue orbs gazing contentedly over the ocean. Being a Saturday, the beach was slightly crowded. To the left, kids splashed in the shallow waters, little girls built a princess sand castle and parents watched their offspring worriedly, while the teenagers gathered around a group of towels playing travel scrabble and working on their tans. To the right a pod of dolphins squeaked excitedly at one another while swimming out further into the sea until I couldn't see them anymore.

Letting out a sigh I leaned my head on my crooked arms, a gust of tropical breeze sending my blonde ringlets unfurling majestically behind my still body. For the first time since my death I'd traded out my normal assortment of khaki pants and several long sleeved shirts into a tight purple tanktop and bright yellow shorts. Gucci sunglasses that I'd borrowed from my best friend shaded my sharp vision from the illuminescent sun. The only article I'd kept on were my beat up Converse, just in case I needed to run away; the tennis shoes would work way better than any pair of flip-flops.

It was hard to believe that four whole days had passed since my passing. There had been the night I'd crashed after coming back in what I deemed _invisible person thingy _mode, and the night after that that I'd spent probing the city for any other ghosts and ended up sleeping for about two hours; the simple remembrance of the blonde-headed bimbo ghost incident made my cheeks smolder with anger, but I brushed it off. After that I'd spent the night at Freddie's and went to my funeral with him the next morning, only to figure out that Carly wasn't the mastermind behind my murder. Nevel hadn't appeared to me since our altercation in the graveyard, not like I minded.

Two extremely long days had moseyed along since my funeral in which I'd thrown all efforts into discovering my murderer. But I hadn't managed to spot the Masked Assassin; I wouldn't be surprised if he'd done a little plastic surgery to cover up his footsteps. And now, if I were to go by the letter Papperman wrote me my first day living with this curse, I had three days left before time ran out. And I had absolutely no clue what to do.

A woman dressed frivolously in a full length, diamond print trench coat with a faux fur trim walked a few feet away from me, her gloved hands clutching a red leash. A poofy white poodle ambled along by her side, his slightly moist black nose sniffing the air. He could probably use a nice piece of bacon right about now, I determined, glancing at the taut muscles on the animal's back legs, noticing the dogtag with the name Esmerelda written in cursive on it. It almost looked like the poor dog's owner was trying to starve her pet.

For a moment it seemed like Esmerelda's beady brown eyes were glancing in my direction and when she let out a mournful howl I jumped from my standing position. _It can't be..._

"Sorry," Esmerelda's leash holder apologized in a snooty tone, ruffling her dog's whisy strands of white fur. It took me a moment to figure out that she was talking to a mother tugging her two children towards her. The mom's face was bright red with exertion.

"Essy had a tendency to scamper off and behave naughty," the fancy woman continued, her head tilted slightly upward. Her green orbs twinkled dully. _She nicknamed her pet, really now?_

"It's no problem, really," insisted the scatterbrained parent, grasping her toddler as he attempted to rush right off the edge of the railing into the crashing waves below. The boy's older sister hid behind her mother's flailing torso, her curious eyes peeking out from dark caverns, peering towards Esmerelda.

As if on cue the poodle let out another howl and his owner pulled harshly on his lead-line, snapping his neck back a little. I felt my gaze dim with disappointment as I discovered what the household pet was really barking at.

A seagull perched on a lamppost several feet away cawed in reply to the offensive challenge from the dog, his beak nipping into the chip bag to pull out another treat. As the bird nibbled on the Flamin' Hot cheeto its fluttering wings seemed to be taunting the gravity prevented animal below it.

"I should have known," I mumbled, my head bowing for a moment as I crept away from the little social scene, my gaze probing the area in front of me. Sidestepping a Girl Scout troup on a cookie selling extravaganza I began walking towards the small amusement park just around the corner. I could distinctly make out the sounds of people screaming on the roller coaster and the ringing noises that signified that yet another little kid had been conned out of their money's worth for a crappy game.

"I told you, I made it very clear what she had to do," an agitated figure snarled, drawing my attention to the left. I could just see two hovering shadows behind one of the carnival tents. Now, why did that voice sound so similar?

My eyes darted back and forth between the roller coaster and the two oddly dressed figures several times before I finally made up my mind. My back pressed tightly against the canvas walls of the tent next to me, wrinkling the back of my tanktop, and I began to slither in the direction of the two hushed voices.

"But what if she doesn't listen?" A man questioned and I had to catch a fleeting gasp as I spotted the latter of the two speakers. He was none other than the Masked Assassin. Dressed in a long-sleeved body suit he definitely stood out, that was for sure, and I watched as a passing couple gave him weirded out looks, their tongues lapping at mint-flavored ice cream in cones. He flipped them off and they walked away, hurriedly, shooting furitive glances back in his direction every few feet.

"Carly won't dare cross me," a higher pitched voice announced coldly and I could just spot a cloaked figure before the Masked Assassin glanced in my direction. I flung myself down against the striped print of the carnival tent; I knew he couldn't see me, but shivers ran through my body anyways. His glare was murderous.

"She _will _break up with her stupid boyfriend tomorrow, or she'll die. Luring in Benson is the only use I have for Miss Shay." What I assumed was a female voice continued, the sound of her vicious ramblings slightly muffled by her cloak. A glint of metal caught my gaze and my jaw hit the floor as I percieved the shorter figure clutching a gleaming knife in her palm.

_Nevel was right. Carly and Freddie are in danger. Fatal danger._

I felt a prick of guilt for shoving off the nub's premonitions, but I quickly forced the feeling away.

"So, uh, what should I do?" The hard-headed henchman wondered, scratching his head in apparent confusion. _Someone isn't the sharpest tool in the shed, _I noted with a tiny smirk.

"Just keep an eye on Carly and make sure she follows through. I will not fail to ruin Sam Puckett's life, not now that I've gotten her out of the way!" The cloaked figure hissed, and just as I was about to dub her officially insane it all connected. Well, part of it anyways.

There was a pause, a drifting notion of utter shock disconnecting my brain stem for a moment. So the Masked Assassin hadn't murdered me, but someone else he was working with, I figured out, a haze sweeping over my vision.

This was worse than I'd originally thought.

* * *

**SPARKNOTES:**

**__****I'm going to be adding a totally new chapter after this so for those who have already read this whole story you might want to at least read the next chapter, whenever I may post it. I'm really busy with senior year stuff. **

**_Anyways, I don't know if I'll add any more completely new chapters to the story, but I might; it depends on whether I feel certain parts of the story need more filling in. _**

**_Until then, enjoy the story!_**

**_-mktoddsparky_**


	8. Part Seven

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Remember Me Part 7

**I apologize profusely for the lack of updates. Like I said I've been having a major writer's block and the ideas just won't come. But these couple did, and I was the mood for some drama, so I hope you guys don't think this is too suckish. Please review, it will seriously make my day.**

_Sam sat in her room, messing around on Freddie's computer that she had stolen yesterday afternoon, when she suddenly got an IM on Facebook. Sighing impatiently she paused her game of Deer Hunting and clicked on the Facebook page, groaning as she saw that the IM was from none other than her puke perfect sister, Melanie. _

_Miss_Melanie: Hey Samantha, boy do I have news for you!_

_Sam_likes_ham: Don't call me that. You know I hate it.  
_

_Miss_Melanie: Oops. I'm sorry. Please forgive me. _

_Sam_likes_ham: Whatever. So what is this news you have to tell me?_

_Miss_Melanie: Oh yeah (giggles.)_

_Sam_likes_ham: Stop giggling and tell me already. I don't have all day, you know._

_Miss_Melanie: Sam, you and I both know you're in your room, bored out of your mind._

_Sam_likes_ham: (growls) Fine, I give you that one. Now what is this news of yours?_

_Miss_Melanie: Okay (giggles) You know that Freddie kid?_

_Sam_likes_ham: You mean the dork who's the tech producer of iCarly? Yeah, I know him, unfortunately._

_Miss_Melanie: Freddie isn't a dork, Sam._

_Sam_likes_ham: Uh, yeah he is…such a mamma's boy._

_Miss_Melanie: Stop making fun of him, please._

_Sam_likes_ham: Why do you care if I make fun of the dweeb or not?_

_Miss_Melanie: Because….I like him._

_Sam_likes_ham: (gasps in shock) You…like….that DORK? HAHAHAHA!_

_Miss_Melanie: (frowns) Stop it, I'm not joking about this._

_Sam_likes_ham: I know you aren't, that's what makes it so funny. Nobody likes that nerd._

_Miss_Melanie: Well I think he's cute._

_Sam_likes_ham: Ugh, don't make me gag._

_Miss_Melanie: (smirks) You're just jealous._

_Sam_likes_ham: Am not! Wait….what am I jealous of?_

_Miss_Melanie: You like Freddie as more than friends._

_Sam_likes_ham: …..uh, for a second there I actually thought you were serious._

_Miss_Melanie: I'm being totally serious, Sam. You want to date him._

_Sam_likes_ham: Pu-lease. Don't make me puke. I hate Freddork's guts._

_Miss_Melanie: No you don't. _

_Sam_likes_ham: Yeah, I do. Have you NOT noticed how many times I make fun of him?_

_Miss_Melanie: My point exactly. You beat him up just so you can hide your true feelings._

_Sam_likes_ham: Ugh, I don't want to talk about this!_

_Miss_Melanie: Exactly (smiles.)_

_Sam_likes_ham: Just change the subject already._

_Miss_Melanie: No, I told you, I have to tell you something about Freddie and I._

_Sam_likes_ham: Well tell me already. Mama's craving some ham, but I have to go to the store to buy some. Or maybe I'll just steal some of Carly's ham….hmm…_

_Sam got off her bed, reaching for her thin purple coat, sliding her arms through the sleeves, and grabbing her cell phone from her jean's front pocket. She was glad that she could access Facebook through her phone. Logging on, she read her sister's new message, and walked out of her apartment, heading towards Carly's apartment._

_Miss_Melanie: Well, the thing is, I kinda went on a date with Freddie._

_Sam_likes_ham: You…..WHAT? Are you freaking insane?_

_Miss_Melanie: No, I'm not insane. You know the last time I came to visit and Freddie thought I was you?_

_Sam_likes_ham: Uh…yeah?_

_Miss_Melanie: Well, he asked me out on a date to prove that I was you, and I said yes. So he took me to this nice club in town, and he wore a striped shirt, my favorite._

_Sam_likes_ham: Ugh, stripes. Kill me now._

_Miss_Melanie: Stop interrupting, please._

_Sam_likes_ham: Fine, whatever. Finish your stupid story, like I actually need to hear about your and Freddie's personal life._

_Sam looked up from her phone, slightly agitated, to see that she was already at Bushwell Plaza. She entered the lobby, ignoring Lewbert as he screamed, "NO TEXTING IN MY LOBBY!" Groaning as she saw the 'Broken' sign over the elevators, she began ascending the stairs, taking her phone back out as it beeped, signaling a new message._

_Miss_Melanie: You're practically green with envy._

_Sam_likes_ham: Am not!_

_Miss_Melanie: Fine, keeping lying to yourself. Back to my story. Freddie and I danced at the club and I…_

_Sam_likes_ham: Spit it out already._

_Miss_Melanie: I'm not sure how you'll take it._

_Sam_likes_ham: Stop mumbling to yourself and finish the damn story already._

_Sam barged through the Shay's apartment door, not even bothering to knock, knowing that she would be able to pick the lock if it was closed anyways. Carly, who was sitting on the couch, took a sip of her ice tea and gave her best friend a small smile, "Hey Sam, I thought you'd be over here earlier."_

"_Shhh!" The blonde held up one hand in the brunette's direction, "I'm talking to Melanie."_

"_You, talking to Mel?" Carly laughed a little, "Something must be wrong with you. I thought you hated your sister."_

"_I do hate her," I mumbled, heading straight for the fridge, "She forced me to listen to her ramble on and on about some date she had."_

"_Oooh, do tell," Carly clapped her hands together as my eyes lit up, connecting with the luscious piece of ham sitting right there on the second shelf of the fridge._

"_There's nothing much to tell," I growled as I shoved a massive slice of ham into my awaiting mouth, "She's totally in love with this foreign exchange student. Yeah, that." I smirked to myself, pleased with my lying skills._

"_Oh, okay, I should totally ask her about him," Carly gushed and I nodded mechanically as my eyes refocused on the cell phone screen in front of me. My breath caught in my throat and I got a burning feeling in my eyes as I read._

_Miss_Melanie: Sam…..I kissed Freddie._

_Sam_likes_ham: …._

_I typed in the dots, trying to buy myself more time, because this could not be happening, there could be no way. How could Freddie fall for my sister? My __**twin **__sister?_

_Miss_Melanie: Sam? Please answer me, I'm sorry._

_Sam_likes_ham: How could you actually kiss him?_

_Miss_Melanie: I'm really sorry, Sam._

_Sam_likes_ham: Did he kiss you back? Did he?_

_Miss_Melanie: Well….yes, he did kiss me back. I'm so sorry Sam, I swear it didn't mean anything._

_Sam_likes_ham: This conversation is over!_

_Miss_Melanie: Let me explain myself, please?_

_Sam_likes_ham: Why should I?_

_Miss_Melanie: Because you deserve to know the truth._

"_Sam, are you okay?" Carly asked, concerned for her friend, "Your face just got all pale."_

"_Um, yeah," Sam forced herself to smile, "I just came over here for some ham, and then my mom texted me. She got a new bikini and I have to go home to watch her model it." She grimaced for real this time as her phone buzzed._

"_Oh, okay then," Carly smiled sympathetically, "No stealing the rest of the ham, though."_

"_Fine," Sam mumbled, shoving another piece of ham in her mouth before shutting the fridge door, "Catch you later, Shay." She shut their apartment door behind her._

"_Something's not right with that girl…" Carly mused, her lips pursing as she saw the remains of their ham on the kitchen floor. "Spencer, we need to buy more ham! Sam ate it all again!"_

_Sam headed back down the hall towards the stairs, deep in thought as she read her sister's message._

_Miss_Melanie: I am so sorry that I hurt you, Sam. Your outburst made me truly realize how upset you really were, and I had no idea it was that bad. You have every right to be furious with me, but I would like to tell you one last thing. Yes, Freddie and I kissed, and yes he kissed me back, but I don't think he realized he was kissing Melanie Puckett. He truly believed that he was kissing Sam Puckett, and that's why he kissed me back. He probably thought that you finally loved him back, and that was probably the most wonderful and yet most confusing moment of his life. Give him some time, Sam, guys are easily confused, but he'll come around, I promise you that. You just have to promise me one thing Sam. Promise me that you won't let this amazing young man out of your life without telling him how you feel. I can see now how happy he makes you, and I am positive that you have fallen in love with him. I just want to see you happy. Please promise me that, even if you never want to speak to me again._

_Sam took in a deep breath, her eyes opening to the truth of her sister's words. She was wiser than she ever gave her credit for. Hesitating for the briefest second, she typed a simple two word reply._

_Sam_likes_ham: I promise._

* * *

Once I'd determined that there was nothing more to learn from the duo's malicious conversation I crept away, realizing as I did so that storm clouds were beginning to peel away any atomic particle of sunlight present. Thunder rolled across the heavens as I slipped through the railing on the pier, my somewhat stiff muscles unfurling as I sped towards the ground. The landing didn't exactly hurt, there was more of a tingling feeling that spread from head to toe, a phenomenon I'd grown used to over the past couple days.

Lightning snaked ominously across the dark skies, sending several small children to plop into their mother's arms screaming. The young adults attempting a sun tan on their creatively patterned towels packed everything up, sliding their sunglasses and other sunbathing equipment back in their bags with scowls of annoyance. Umbrellas that weren't closed up quickly enough were swept up in the quickly developing storm, riveting away only to be shot from the sky by more lightning.

Adventurous teenagers ignored the beseeching calls of their superiors, instead choosing to paddle further out with their various body boards. I chuckled at the sight, remembering how I would used to do the very same thing, insisting that my friends were pansies. Carly's lecture afterwords came to mind but I brushed it off as I always had done, continuing on my snail-paced way.

A little while later I discovered that everyone else had evacuated the perimeter, leaving moi, the unparalleled ghost, to battle out the vicious bolts and wailing winds.

"This is you, isn't it?" I wondered blankly, my agonized orbs shooting up to connect with the sinister cloaked figure straddling the rail. Whoever the mastermind was they didn't seem to be worried about being swept away by the hurricane. It was almost as if they weren't human...

"Who else would it be?" A feminine voice rasped and the cloaked figure's head turned in my direction. I felt my blood turn to ice. I was right. But that's...impossible. Well, obviously it's not impossible but you know what I mean!

"How can you...I mean...what are..." I stuttered, unable to force the words out; I was simple too afraid to accept the truth in this matter. I know, Sam Puckett scared is an irony in itself but it does happen, no matter what the statistics read.

"That's right. I can see you," she answered, her tone scratchy, as though the cloaked woman hadn't spoken in some time.

"But that's impossible!" I cried, my blonde ringlets flailing like crazy in the ferocious winds. My oceanic orbs were alit with shock and depravity.

"Impossible for humans..." my enemy whispered hoarsely, her fingers raking the wood holding her body aloft.

There was a crash of lightning and a moment later thunder rumbled, casting the railing in an inpenetrable shadow. When the shadow flashed away a moment later the cloaked figure had vanished.

From the scene on the beach I managed to catch the C-260, my trembling form sinking into the dingy wood of the side-long benches. Scenery flashed by, barely visible through the grimy windows and as much as I wanted to close my eyes I just couldn't. There must have been at least six hours from Santa Monica to the California border with Nevada but I couldn't seem to erase the image of the cloaked figure from my mind. Something evil was afoot just outside the bus, or so my sixth sense was attempting to persuade me.

An hour passed incimentally slow and my eyelids were steadily drooping, reminding me that I hadn't slept since five-thirty that morning; I'd been experiencing flashbacks of my livings moments throughout the sleeping hours and I'd only managed to drift of at around two am. Glancing at the person next to me's wrist-watch I pinpointed that it was about a quarter to eleven now. The darkness seemed to be penetrating the thin glass panes as the transportation vehicle continued to crawl along, parking at every destined bus stop to pick up new passengers.

And then the atmosphere changed drastically as the C-260 made its last stop, letting in half a dozen stragglers. There were two old grandmothers with their knitting needles and a biker dude that looked like he could smash my face in if he wanted to. Behind them entered a mother with her sleeping child; the toddler looked no more than two years old, with his chubby, flushed cheeks and blonde hair so light that it could have been called white. But it was none of them that truly caught my attention.

The last passenger to enter was none other than the man who infiltrated my nightmares: The Masked Assassin.

Don't ask me how I knew it was him, because there really were no definable traits or physical features. The male's hair was now a shoddy mouse brown and he donned a straight-jacket with matching brown pants and a plain black tie. Shiny loafers completed the image. But it was the smirk that twisted his face in almost a comical way that snagged my toughened gaze and those cold, glinting black eyes that spoke of desecration and endless doom.

I swore the man winked in my direction before seating himself in the very front of the bus, right next to the driver. _He's trapping us_, I comprehended with a touch of dread. As far as I could tell the Masked Assassin wasn't totally human, either, considering that he was now smiling fakely in my direction.

Nothing happened right away; it was almost as if the man was waiting for a certain point in time. Several hours later when the lot of us transitioned to the N-179 he skulked right along, seating himself beside the woman with her now whimpering child. The boy's startlingly cerulean orbs gazed, enraptured, in my direction and I crooned to the child, knowing that he saw me. _But you're too young to raise the alarm, huh?_

This was happening more and more lately, the whole humans-and-animals-seeing-me thing, and while at first I'd assumed it was simply a fluke that God had overlooked, now I was having second thoughts. Luckily it was just minor right now, with such beings as dogs and babies catching a glimpse of ghost-girl, but who knew how bad it could get? Then again, I only had three - well, two, since it was about one in the morning on the fifth day of my curse - days until I disappeared for good. Hopefully it wouldn't get to the point where I had to stay locked in the dork's apartment for fear of being hung.

I found myself staring at the little boy sleeping soundly in his mother's arms once more for the next several hours. Normally I'm not the maternal type, obviously, but there was something distinctly...familiar about this specific child that sent my heart fluttering. Then it clicked - he really did have a striking resemblance to myself, only the opposite gender. The blonde hair, the blue eyes...we could have been brother and sister in another life. Except this little boy was living the childhood I'd always dreamed of, with a mother that obviously adored him and probably a hard-working father that would scoop him up and rain kisses upon the toddler's brow.

This connection sent the fluttery moth thing coursing through my system once more, accompanied by a warmth that I wasn't used to entertaining. Was I, Sam Puckett, actually feeling protective of this stranger, this innocent little boy? I didn't want to take the time to think about it. Instead, I brushed the slumbering child's locks back from his forehead and placed a motherly kiss upon his brow, releasing him a moment later to catch myself before this got out of hand.

More time elapsed while I shifted poses uneasily. The Masked Assassin kept glancing down at something hidden within his jacket folds, as though counting down to the big finale. When the passangers transfered from the Nevada bus to the W-89, the vehicle that would carry us directly into the clutches of downtown Seattle, I caught the desecrator typing something into his cell phone, his expression fierce with a mixture of evil pride and fanatic success. Whatever the cloaked figure had planned for her minion to accomplish must be executing soon, I understood, fighting back the growing panic.

It was one thing for the murderers to bother me, but when they escalated their target zone to the whole of Seattle...well that just pissed me off.

The Masked Assassin seated himself right by the driver and as I passed him I shot him the dirtiest look I could muster, "Do what I think you're going to and you'll have me to answer to."

The man's eyes widened slightly before he wrestled his features back to a confident mask, "You can't touch me, surely you remembered that."

"What?" An older lady asked as she waddled on after me. She'd assumed the guy was telling her off, I discovered with a slight snort.

"Oh, nothing, madam," the Masked Assassin covered up quickly, flashing the woman a supposedly genuine apologetic smile before waving her on.

I landed on a thunk on a padded chair next to the mother and child again; it was almost as if there was a magnetic pulse connecting me to the tiny family. The boy was wailing and writhing in the woman's arms as he struggled to escape, his flushed cheeks an indication that a fever was coming on. His mother was frenzied, fatigue battling duty in her dull green orbs as she shifted her purse to rest beside my curled up form. A moment later she took up rocking her son, murmuring sweet lullabies in a undertone trill to sooth the fussy child.

Hours passed in a slow monotone; every few minutes passangers would shift around and gaze at their watches to determine just how much longer it would be before the final destination. A young man sat in the corner, one of his shaking hands raking through his auburn snarls of hair while his free hand typed an assortment of letters onto a hidden document on his laptop. The grandmothers had taken up their knitting once more, their serene expressions drooping slightly with lack of sleep. The little boy slept on his mother's shoulder while the woman herself watched her beloved calmly, refusing to bat an eye in any other direction. She must have been exhausted but she would much rather ensure her son's safety, I realized with a thump of my heart. _Damn emotions! I don't want to become some soft of soft mushy girly-girl._

Finally the W-89 reached the familiar streets of my hometown, Seattle, and I let out a frustrated groan. The Masked Assassin hadn't struck yet and a plaguing thought in my mind whispered that maybe, just maybe, he wasn't planning anything. I didn't trust the voice, not yet anyways.

And that's when it happened.

The bus shifted as it began to travel down an extremely sharp decline and the Masked Assassin stood up, his hand delving into his coat pocket to grasp at some sort of bulky object. Gazing victoriously in my direction he stated calmly, "My boss wanted to remind you why you shouldn't meddle in other people's business, Samantha."

While everyone else in the bus was glancing around trying to figure out who the heck Samantha was, to no avail, he pulled out a dark cyllinder from his pocket, flashing it in my direction gloatingly for a second before pressing the green button on the outside of the canister. Without another word the minion dropped the container on the floor and disappeared in a thick green fog, just moments before I realized just what the object was. _No, no...this can't be happening..._

It was a bomb.

Seconds later there was an explosion and a flaming hole was forcefully burnt into the ceiling of the bus. The vehicle groaned and tipped over in slow motion, beginning to roll down the hill while little explosions continued to flare from inside.

People were screaming, but the sounds were slowly fading away. I felt my body being thrown from one wall to the next, watched as people's skulls were cracked open and their skin was singed off. The two grandmothers cracked into floor with a sickening thud before zooming out through the simmering hole in the ceiling, followed by several others, against their will. The bus rolled a few more times before coming to a halt at the bottom of the hill, flames erupting from the vehicle and charring whoever hadn't been thrown out beforehand.

I found myself lying on the ground beside the bus, my skin cracked and blistering and blood flowing freely from a crack in my head. _I thought I couldn't be hurt! I'm not alive, so how does this affect me?_

There were sirens wailing as the paramedics arrived but they were practically just walking around in a monotone procedure. Caution tape penned off the area a moment later and policemen forced back the multitude of the crowd. The people viewing the remains of the accident looked devastated; tears rolled down shrunken cheeks and yells echoed from the gatherings. _They don't understand...they weren't a part of this horror..._

My vision was fading by the moment and the blackness so similar to my death crept over my shivering form. The ghastly darkness recoiled as they felt where my soul should be, however, and discovered nothing. My soul was no more, I understood, pain crackling down my spine.

I saw the grandmothers lying several feet away, their bodies blackened beyond imagination, along with the majority of the passengers. The deceased's eyes were frozen open, their now grey orbs filled with indescribable terror. They had all suffered before dying, of this I was certain. How could God let this happen to them? They never did anything...

And that's when I swore I heard my heart crack in half. _No!_

The mother of my could-be sibling was lying not inches from my paralyzed form, her skin covered by bruises, cuts and oozing sores. Her arms were spread in an eagle position and her cob-webbed eyes gazed unseeingly up at the bright blue skies. Tears began to stream down my hollow cheeks as I stroked the woman's burnt remains of soft brown hair, unable to come to terms with the fact that this young adult would never again experience the joy of living. But unlike me, she was moving on to a better place. She wouldn't be stuck behind.

Just beside the woman's cold body lay her son, but unlike everyone else, he wasn't dead yet. The child was crying as he stretched his arms towards his mommy's lifeless form, wishing to be comforted by her. His skin was burnt dead black and all his white blond hair had been singed off; cuts, bruises and the like dotted his milky skin, covering him in a blanket of agony. I didn't see how he was still alive, but by the looks of it he only had moments left.

Forcing myself to stand up I gazed around me at the devastation, wishing that I could go and join the newly deceased souls in heaven or wherever dead people go. Hate crossed my oceanic orbs as the tears continued to streak despondently down my face; more than anything in the world I wanted to get my hands around both the cloaked figure and the Masked Assassin and squeeze the life out of them.

The toddler's screams rang in my ears, resonating like a terrible nightmare, only this was reality. Bleak, uncaring reality. I wanted to scoop the child up and promise him that I would save him, but I knew that I wasn't allowed to tamper. More than that, I couldn't.

"I'm sorry," I choked out through my sobs as I did the only thing I could do now. I walked away, the scene of the bus and the mother and the child and the bomb etched forever into my mind. The dark storm clouds had gathered over the scene of the crime and only then did I realize that it was raining. I almost welcomed the cool droplets now, though; it felt appropriate considering what had just occurred.

As the raindrops soaked my skin, stitching up the cuts and drowning away the bleeding I became aware of one fact. My cries grew and I fought not to sink to the ground and claw my heart out.

It was silent. The child's screams had halted, forever.

* * *

I barely even remembered making my way from the crime scene to floating through the left hand door across from Carly's apartment.

I figured that I may as well check to be positive that the nub and Mc Crazy Pants were asleep before I began moving things around. It probably wouldn't help the cause if either one of the Benson's discovered a floating vase in the middle of the kitchen or something. But knowing the mood I was in it might as well be the whole refrigerator.

Cracking open the first door in the dark hallway I peered in, a brief smirk gracing my lips. Marissa was clutching her maroon pillow as she drooled into it, her eyelids fluttering. She was totally lost in dreamland from the looks of it. Just before leaving my gaze connected with a picture frame on the woman's nightstand and I bit my lip to ban the warm feelings; the photo was the one taken the day that the three of us iCarly comedians had attempted to break a world record, only to lose with about a minute left in the contest. But Spencer had completed a sculpture with 138 moving parts (or something of that amount) and we'd helped him with the 138th piece, the screwdriver, and because of that, we'd earned the record too.

I could still vaguely remember us attempting to turn Carly's sporadic elder brother away from the idea in the first place, to which he'd replied with he "shan't," or if that word didn't word, then he "shizzen't." Just thinking about reminded me that he'd also managed to drag the official record keeper who'd been keeping an eye on our continuous web-cast to join in with his shenanigans. At one point Spencer had sunk his hand into a random blue container only to howl in pain when a bunch of pins had pierced his fragile finger flesh.

A moment later I slipped through the crazy woman's door, stepping towards Freddie's room.

Unlike his mommy the dork hadn't closed his door and so I could clearly make out the my friend's silhouette lying spread out on his queen sized bed. Soft snores emitted from Freddie's lips as he slumbered on, unaware of my suddenly paralyzed presence. I figured, finally, that since he was sleeping it did no good to disturb him.

Once I was back in the living room area I strayed towards the kitchen, opening random cupboards as I searched for the appropriate supplies. I hadn't spent enough time in the dork's apartment to discover where they kept all the 'goods.' The clock chimed five am and I yawned, wrapping my hand around my gaping hole of a mouth for a moment. _I guess I'll just sleep in, then. If I can sleep._

Finally I found everything I needed. I had coffee boiling in a pot a moment later and packets of sugar and little mini cartons of milk sitting right beside the brewing substance. After several minutes I removed my smoldering drink from above the flames and poured it into a flower-patterned teacup, adding just the right amount of sugar and creamer to the coffee.

I knew that the drink would keep me awake, but perhaps, in a little sliver of my conscious, that's what I was hoping. I didn't know if I was ready to face the images of the bus explosion this soon.

Taking a measured sip of the delicious concoction I collapsed onto the couch with a throaty sigh, laughing morosely as my feet knocked several Aggressive Parenting magazines from their perch on the coffee table. For some strange reason, this felt like total normalcy, just lying here and watching the blank TV in the Benson's residence. That reminds me...TV on.

I shouldn't have flickered the screen to life. Because when I did, I realized that Mrs. Benson must have left the news on yesterday and now the reporter was revealing clips of the bus crash.

"Thanks, Rover. This is Macy Gonzales, here to bring you the newest colossal story!" The woman paused to smile hugely at the camera, her free hand brushing back her billowy black locks.

"Just an hour ago something horrific occured on West Avenue and the corner of Sixth Street. A bus was making the deadly ascent, all passengers confident in their driver's navigation skills, when the wheels of the vehicle suddenly spun out, causing the bus to crash and roll all the way down to the terrible intersection. As far as this reporter is aware there are no survivors of this tragic commodity." Again the woman stopped, forcing her features into a somber position before wiping away some fake tears.

The camera zoomed in on the site of the accident, pausing to reveal the blackened bodies of the victims before panning back to the reporter.

"We'll update you as soon as we learn more. This is Macy Gonzales; back to you, Rover." She smiled and waved briefly at the camera before the film cut off.

"Thanks, Macy, now -" I shut off the TV before the lies could affect me anymore. For a moment I wasn't even aware that the coffee cup had slipped from my fingers and toppled onto the carpet, staining the beige walkway.

* * *

**C A R L Y ' S / P O V**

**

* * *

**

I rested my head into the crook of Freddie's neck, attempting not to focus on the fact that after this morning things were going to change drastically. As usual, however, I was unsuccessful.

My wonderful boyfriend's lips brushed like satin against my cheek and dreamily I inhaled the scent of his cologne. With Freddie here it was almost possible to forget about **her. **It was almost possible to imagine that none of this desecration had ever occured, that Sam was still alive and that her murderer hadn't found me. Almost.

I shivered as a gust of early morning air gusted around our two forms, causing me to squirm closer into Freddie's strong embrace. _I'm so sorry, Freddie. I don't want to do this...I love you._

Sam's murderer had threatened Spencer, my dad and I all with horrible, tragic deaths if I didn't cooperate. She had spies crawling all over this city and I felt like I couldn't mumble a single syllable without one of them pointing a rifle in my direction. They all recited the same instructions: **Break the boy today, or you die. **

"You know, Freddie," I whispered, turning until my chocolate orbs could meet his troubled gaze. He was glancing out over the city as though his probing could return our best friend to the living, "sometimes you never know when things are going to change."

"What?" He asked, clearly confused by my apparent gibberish.

Kissing Freddie's jawline gently I continued in the same wistful tone, "You learn to appreciate the sunrise because after it's gone everything can disappear."

My lips had begun to tremble viciously as I stated the mysterious advice. It was my way of saying goodbye to him, because post this afternoon he would never want to see me again.

"What's wrong, Carls?" My adoring boyfriend wondered, brushing back a lock of my freshly washed dark hair. His caramel orbs studied me, perplexed by my sudden switch in moods. _You will never understand._

Taking a deep breath, I mumbled, "I saw the old iCarly video you were watching up in the studio a couple days ago."

Freddie's eyes clearly clouded with guilt, "I guess...I guess I just miss those days." He half-lied.

"Why did you pause on a clip of Sam?" I inquired, my voice shaking once more as I shot him a frustrated glare. "I'm your girlfriend."

"I...It was no big deal, Carly," Freddie attempted to placate me. "She was both of our best friends."

"It's more than that!" I insisted, ripping my hand from his comforting grasp.

"No, it isn't," the tech producer argued and his eyes narrowed slightly as I stood up to shoot him a withering glance.

"Things were fine and dandy when Sam was alive. We were happy and our relationship flourished!" I cried, tears burning my vision. "But as soon as she died something changed between us, Freddie, and I don't know what!"

My hands landed on my hips, sending a defiant message to my boyfriend. Even though I was being forced to do this there was actual hurt behind my statements; I was honestly curious as to why things changed when Sam died. _But I think I already know, even though I don't want to believe it._

Freddie stood up as well, his hand stretching out to caress my flaming cheek, but I stepped further away, dangerously close to the edge of the fire escape. I saw his eyes widen and knew that he was scared I would fall over the edge. So he did care for me, but how much was the real question.

"I repeat, our best friend died!" He snapped, his mouth a flat line. It used to take a lot to get Freddie aggravated and usually the only person who could had been Sam. But since she'd passed he'd become like an open book, so easy to crack and destroy emotionally. He'd become inflamed at the slightly retort.

"I know Sam died, but that shouldn't have affected our relationship," I answered him blankly; it took everything in me not to stop off just yet, but I knew I had to nearly sever our ties before leaving. _I can do this, I have to._

"Why can't you just trust me?" He replied, the sting in his tone apparent. I felt the words figuratively sting my heart and knew that this had to be done. _I have to save you from my doom, Freddie._

"I've trusted you ever since I met you, Benson, but you're hiding something from me...something horrible." My voice cracked and I fought to tug up my composure. A tear slipped down my cheek, however, ruining my calm facade. "Why can't you just tell me?"

"Because it's too complicated," Freddie hissed, his fingers curling into fists. I fought back the original panic, knowing that my boyfriend would never hit me; it just wasn't in his nubbish nature.

"Well then, you talk to me when you've uncomplicated it. I don't even think you love me anymore," I whispered lifelessly, fleeing from the fire escape and back into the deserted hallway before I could see the shocked, heartbroken expression on Freddie's face.

_I'm so sorry, Freddie. I love you._

* * *

**S A M ' S / P O V**

* * *

My eyelids fluttered open as I gasped, bolting upright to gaze around me. Not a moment before I'd been back in the bus as it careened down the sharp hill, exploding at the bottom. I'd seen the lifeless bodies of the grandmothers and the cool biker door and the mother and child. I'd been forced to listen as the little boy's wails had faded away until they were no more, signaling his permanent death. It wasn't real, thank God.

"Just a dream," I mumbled sleepily, rubbing my eyes as another yawn escaped. My whole body was still trembling from the nightmares but I refused to entertain the presence of fear. I had to master it. I was Sam Puckett, damn it!

Fatigue dragged me down as I grasped the leftover coffee from the fridge, my foggy gaze catching the clock as it moved dizzily back and forth on the wall: 12:56. Not that it felt like it, I admitted with a slight chuckle before pouring the cold drink into a fresh pot and starting the fire.

Five minutes later I was gulping down coffee as I paced around the room, too hyper from the caffeine to sit down and too exhausted to move any faster than a tortoise. The sugar rush that the brew gave me allowed my mind to settle slightly, but I still really wanted to lie down. The nightmares had robbed me of all but an hour of serene slumber last night, not to mention that I hadn't even gotten home until 2 in the morning.

A sudden jolt in my sluggish brain made me stop in my tracks, my oceanic orbs widening considerably. I only had two more days left as a ghost before God damned me to eternal hell.

Where did all my time go? That was all my fried mind could conjure in the present moment, but it was enough to let loose a flood of emotions. Fear, pain, disbelief, an adrenaline rush and more, just to name a select few.

Grabbing a slab of ham from the Benson's fridge I slid through their front door and into Carly's apartment, determined to get some sort of lead. Otherwise, I was doomed. And now, since I'd scared the pants off of Nevel I expected that he'd turned all the guardian angels against me as well, leaving me myself, and…yeah, just me.

I couldn't get Papperman's words out of my mind though, no matter how much I wanted to scrub them off the face of existence. The memory was pretty much the thorn in my side, compared to my murder mystery being an elephant about to trample me. But a thorn is just as annoying, in my opinion. And since this is my story you _have_ to agree with me, so hah!

There we were, having our abusive conversation, when he'd hit my fears right in the bull-seye:

_Nevel continued the report in that boring, monotonous voice that made me want to hurt small children, "The reason you are still here is because you were murdered, Sam. Your purpose is to find out who murdered you and avenge your death. You're not the only one in danger anymore."_

_I was about to go off on another tangent about how f-ed up this whole deal was but something in his various ramblings caught my attention. "Wait, say that one more time? The last part, I mean." I clarified, feeling like a dummy._

_"You're not the only one in danger, Samantha," Nevel repeated quietly, his pacing ceasing for a moment as the words sunk into my brain and I tossed them around, trying to make sense of the implications._

_"Wait, are you saying that my murderer is going to kill someone else?" I questioned him, my tone becoming sharper with each word._

_"Not just anybody," the vest-clothed boy clarified, his eyes narrowing inch by inch until they were tiny slits in his face, "Someone you know and love very much."_

_Slowly it sunk in, leaving me breathless with a fear I wasn't aware I could experience._

_"My murderer is going to try to kill Carly and Freddie," I mumbled more to myself then anybody else, but out of the corner of my left eye I saw Nevel nodding in agreement, or confirmation, of my statement._

_The blonde-haired male angel looked away for a moment and I swear I saw sympathy flit across his proud gaze, but I was probably dreaming things._

_When he spoke again, his voice was flat, "You must find out who your murderer is and avenge your death before it is too late. You must save Carly and Freddie." With a sad smile, he vanished into thin air, not even giving me warning about the fact that he had to go somewhere._

As I glanced around the Shay's apartment it became quickly apparent that something huge was about to go down. There was almost a tangible tension in the air; I probably could have cut it with a butter knife if I'd wanted to, but now was not the time to fool around.

Carly was leaning across the counter by the fishbowl, eyeing Swimmy IV (Spencer had killed Swimmy III when he'd set his cow over mitts on fire the second day of my ghostly journey) with a speculative grimace.

I expected Freddork to be over right beside her, his arms enfolding her in for a comforting hug or handing her a freshly picked rose. He was just that kind of guy. But, to my surprise, Freddie wasn't in the premise.

I felt a frown drift across my face; my best friend was definitely stewing about something and she probably could have used her boyfriend by her side. Carls was a very needy person, so I'd learned over our seasoned years of friendship.

The elder Shay sibling stood over the stove in the kitchen, humming a morose tune under his breath as he shoved a package into the microwave. After pressing a few buttons the machine lit up and began to rotate the item counter-clockwise. Spencer seemed quiet, too quiet, I realized. This whole apartment seemed to be holding its breath, as if a catastrophic event were about to take place.

Spencer's gaze flickered over to his little sister every few seconds, his brow furrowing as he fought to think of something. Finally, the grown man mumbled, "So, how about this weather?"

Being Spencer, he cracked up at his own lame joke, but the brunette young woman remained quiet. Her fingers were knotting agitatedly on the countertop. "He's late," she kept whispering, pain crossing her face no matter how hard she attempted to hide it.

"He'll come," Spencer reassured Carly hopefully as the microwave dinged, noting that the item was finished heating. The older man only pressed more buttons on the machine however, sending the bagged surprise clock-wise now. "Besides, it's only two till one; he's never late."

"I don't want to do this," Carly muttered, pressing her hand against her forehead as the tears filled her terrified orbs. My best friend looked as if she was about to fall about. I forgot, my murderers are using her. She must be so frightened.

"Then don't," Spencer advised with a shrug.

"I have to," the attractive web-comedian answered bleakly. "I have no choice."

The microwave dinged again but the sculptor sent the item for a third round to black-and-burnt land. Seconds later steam began billowing out of the device and the fire alarm went off; for the next minute or so Spencer screamed and ran around trying to fix the problem. Finally he dumped the contents of the bag onto a plate, wincing as his vision connected with crumbling, black ham.

"Why did you cook Canadian Bacon in the microwave?" Carly asked her older brother, fighting back a tiny smile. For the moment she was distracted.

"Because it doesn't taste good cold," Spencer whined, sticking out his bottom lip and pouting like a two year old.

Just then there came a sharp rap at the door and my best friend's face blanched. "Spencer, get in your room, now," she commanded listlessly and her sibling obeyed without protest, carrying his badly burnt ham on his head like some weird Buddhist monk.

"Come in," Carly whispered; she looked too afraid to answer the door herself.

"Why did you call me here?" Freddie asked darkly as he closed the front door behind him, shuffling his feet on the carpet a little before sinking against the wall.

"I think you have a pretty good idea why," the brunette snapped harshly, crossing her arms across her chest. I had absolutely no idea what would make her so pissed at her 'Freddie-bear' but a horrible suspicion was being to dawn in my mind.

"I think you overreacted this morning," Freddork replied in a dull monotone. "What else is there to say?"

"Oh, you know it as much as I do!" Carly yelled and Spencer whimpered from his bedroom, apparently eavesdropping on the teenager's conversation.

"No, I don't, actually. Mind enlightening me?" Our tech producer responded somewhat sarcastically. His chocolate orbs flashed with anger and pain in the same span.

"You don't love me." It wasn't a statement that came from my best friend and I prepared myself for the nub's romantic response, knowing that it would push a fresh dent in my armor. But it never came.

"How could I, after what happened," Freddie told her honestly, trying not to sound too furious.

"You led me on, you….nub!" She yelled and hurt glowed in the dork's gaze. My jaw, meanwhile, had hit the floor.

"You changed, long before Sam's death," the brunette remarked quietly, gazing in his girlfriend's eyes seriously. "Don't think I missed all the times you snubbed Sam whenever she was around. You just couldn't bear to share me," he unearthed and by the expression on my best friend's face I knew he'd struck gold.

"You…." Carly paused, defeat battling in her worn gaze. "You're right, Freddie. You're right about everything."

"I am?" He asked, too stunned to make a sharp reply. I could see sympathy battling in his eyes; he didn't like to be angry with the brunette, clearly. But this was something that couldn't be avoided.

"Freddie –"

"Listen, Carls," Freddie gave a little half-hearted sigh that I knew all too well. It was his signature sigh that told the person he was conversing with that he wished he could avoid the topic. It never worked on me; when I was alive I would have simply shoved him up against the wall, clutching his collar until my fingers turned white from lack of circulation, and demanded answers.

Six months ago Carly would have sat patiently by her boyfriend's side, intertwining her fingers with his as she waited for his verdict. That was how my old best friend would have responded, without a doubt.

But this was the present and the brunette had been dealing first with my assassination and then with mass murderers threatening her in some way that I wasn't aware of. The simple thought of what these sick people were doing to my gentle, beautiful best friend made the world go red for a moment and my thoughts swam with stupid plots of revenge.

She rolled her eyes, "If you're going to dump me then just get to it!" _Now why would she assume that?_

Freddie's head tilted to the side as he digested his girlfriend's last words and then his eyes widened a little, "I'm not going to break up with you, Carls. This is just some argument and I know we can make it through it, together." There's the moment I was waiting for all along.

"Things aren't going to change," my best friend responded bitterly, gripping the counter-top so tightly that her fingers drained of color. "Now that's Sam's gone…"

"Yes, Sam's gone, but we have each other." Freddie spoke hesitantly, as though trying to convince himself more than his own hysterical girlfriend about the matter.

"You don't believe that, I can see it in your eyes," Carly disagreed, shaking her head despondently. A tear riveted down her left cheek. "Sam always meant more to you than I did. No matter what I tried, she always came in first."

This was turning into a major OOC moment, I thought, circling the scene while my oceanic orbs begged Carly not to ruin this. When I disappeared for good all my two friends would have left would be each other; they couldn't separate now, of all times.

"You're both being stupid," I muttered, my eyes doing a brief 360. I already had enough stress with trying to solve my murder without them arguing over me. It was just childish. _Wow, now I really sound like a parent. Yippee…not._

"Look, maybe I want you to break up with me, did you ever think of that?" Carly turned the tables suddenly.

I felt my eyes widen a little at the bitterness and pure hatred in her tone. I had never seen Carly like this before, and truth be told it scared me, a lot. I wanted my old best friend back, the friend who would die of guilt if she ever hurt anybody or anything.

And apparently Freddie was just as shocked as I was because he literally recoiled a little bit, "W-what?"

"You heard me!" She snapped, bracing her forehead on the palm of her hand for a moment, as thought to regain her sense of obligation.

"You want to end this?" Freddie gestured between the two of them before crossing the living room to stand but a few feet away from his girlfriend.

Tears were building up on Carly's eyelids but I could see that she wasn't about to let them fall. She bit her lip, as if wishing she didn't have to say the next word, but she did, "Yes."

"You don't sound sure," he told her, his fingers reaching out to stroke her cheek delicately. I saw Carly shudder at the feather-light touch, her face relaxing into his palm for a moment before she pushed him away.

Carly looked away, but I caught a trace of tears in her eyes as she whispered, "This was never the right thing to do."

Freddie's eyebrows rose in confusion, "What are you talking about?"

Carly took in a deep breath, and I saw her shoulders set in determination. She whirled to face Freddie and I shrank back a little at the pure fury in her response. Her brown eyes seemed to glint red as she hissed, "You never loved me! Even when we were freshman and you mooned over me you never loved me! It was always Sam! I was always second best to her! Always!" Her voice cracked again, revealing just how much pain she was experiencing.

"But –" Freddie attempted to interject, to no avail.

"And you know what the worst part of it is, Freddie?" Carly's gaze didn't soften in the least, but the demonic red glint seemed to evaporate, leaving pools of hurt and despair in her sunken eyes.

She swallowed hard, as if forcing back tears. "The worst part of it is that you don't even realize that you're in love with Sam."

I shot back into the wall, sinking right through it, so scattered was my mind. Had my best friend just said what I thought she did? But how could she know? There was nothing to know, absolutely nothing at all. _Oh, but there is. I'm just too afraid to admit it._

By the time I rejoined the scene several seconds later it was to see the first wave of utter disbelief fade from Freddork's face to be replaced by earth-shattering guilt, "But, I don't…"

Carly shook her head, taking in a shaky breath, "Stop lying to yourself; you know I'm right, and I have been all along."

She looked away for a long moment, and when her gaze met his again all I could see was pure sadness radiated from her. There was no inkling of anger in her weak voice, "I was never as important to you as Sam was, and I never will be. I've been fooling myself all along."

Freddie just sat there staring at her and I knew that he was stunned by her words. "Carly…I…" he whispered, seemingly unable to speak at the moment.

The red glint returned to my best friend's eyes and she almost yelled, "Just get out of my apartment, Freddie! I can't take it anymore! You and I both know that you're in love with Sam, so what's the point of you staying here trying to mend a relationship that was never whole to start with!" _Whoa, where did that come from?_

Freddie's body froze and nearly buckled as if she'd shot him right in the heart, "Maybe you're right, Carly. Maybe we never were meant to be! But have you even considered for a minute that there's one flaw in your monologue? Maybe, I don't know, Sam being DEAD! How can you possibly be jealous of someone who committed suicide, Carly?" He screamed, apparently unable to hold back his perspective from his ex-lover.

He looked away, biting his lip and I swore I saw his chocolate orbs shine with tears, but I could be seeing things. Stepping a few feet back his hand closed around one of the pillows on the couch, crushing it into a puff of white swirls before you could blink an eye.

I stayed floating above them, too agitated to even consider sitting down on the chair opposite them, knowing that I would get up again within seconds.

Carly looked down at the ground so intently that I wondered if aliens had inhabited the tiled floor. Meanwhile the male in the room continued to yell, unhindered, "Have you ever considered that I'm in love with a girl who's dead, a girl who I want to be with for the rest of my life, but can't? I don't think you have! I think you're so caught up in your own little pity party that you won't see the truth staring you right in the damn face!"

Now it was my best friend's turn to look like her ex had pierced her with a bullet. Tears began to steam down the young woman's face, drowning her cheeks in blue rivers, "How…how could you say something like that?" For just a second the old Carly was back and I know that Freddie saw it too.

"Carly, I didn't…" the nub began, but it was already too late. A sharp smack echoed around the apartment and a millisecond later I understood what the sound had been. Carly had slapped her best friend across the face, leaving a red mark to blossom from jawbone to cheek.

The tears began rolling down her cheeks as she screamed, "SHUT UP! JUST SHUT UP FOR ONCE IN YOUR DAMN LIFE! STOP TELLING ME THAT I DIDN'T CARE ABOUT SAM! JUST GET OUT OF MY HOUSE!" Carly had officially lost it.

Freddie looked at the girl that he had once loved, hurt and betrayal flashing through his chocolate brown eyes, "When did you change?"

He didn't even bother waiting for an answer. Instead, he stalked purposefully towards the front door, pausing to glance back at the brunette. Carly had collapsed on the couch, sobs erupted like a hurricane from her chest; heartbroken, tortured sobs that no small occurrence can procreate.

"Wish granted, Carls. I'll leave; just don't expect me to come back. I'm sorry." And then, he was gone, leaving my best friend to drown in her own misery.

For a second I couldn't even think. I had never imagined that my death could tear my two closest friends apart, possibly forever. I'd just always assumed that Carly was the center of the universe and when I left for reality one day they wouldn't miss me one bit. _This is all my fault._

For a good twenty minutes all that filled the apartment were the sound of Carly's desperate cries but eventually the storm passed and the noises faded to whimpers. My best friend picked her head up off the nearest cushion, patting at her puffy, red eyes and grabbing a Kleenex to relieve the pressure in her nostrils.

Finally, I heard her whisper, "I appreciated the sunrise with you for as long as I could, but now I have to protect me. I'm so sorry, Freddie."

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______

**SPARKNOTES:**

**_I know, you're probably all going to complain that it was OOC, but I thought it was pretty damn good. Sorry it's been so long since any editing, but I'm working on multiple stories not to mention that I'm one of the only busy seniors in high school. Anyways, hope you enjoyed this; keep your eyes peeled for any new updates. Oh, one last thing. When I'm done editing Remember Me I _**_will **continue with Evermore, but I just couldn't handle another project quite yet. I hope you understand!**_

**_-mktoddsparky :D_**


	9. Part Eight

Part Eight

_**Hey everyone! Sorry I haven't worked on this story in awhile but I seem to be the busiest senior on the planet, so yeah. Hopefully you enjoy this revised chapter. Please review and give me your honest thoughts!**_

_**Recently revised September 2010**_

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**F R E D D I E ' S / P O V **

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Hot tears squeezed out of the corners of my eyes, deliberately traveling sluggishly down my face as though to taunt me. I didn't want to cry, didn't want to give Carly the satisfaction of knowing just how much she'd hurt me; but no matter how many instances I repeated that dull mantra: _Only the weak cry; I am not weak. Only the weak cry; I am not weak _the salty droplets continued to emerge, sodden and secretive.

My feet carried me automatically past my apartment and, sliding open the relatively sturdy glass door I emerged onto the fire escape. _We were here just this morning. How could everything go so wrong so fast?_

Brushing the wet intruders from my shrunken cheeks I collapsed onto my favorite navy lawn chair; I'd set it up here the day after Sam had exposed that I'd never kissed a girl before.

Just thinking briefly about the blonde haired demon sent a wave of passive sadness coursing into my very soul. Although in reality our best friend had only been murdered five days ago it felt like an eternity; each moment that the second hand on the clock inched forwards reminded me painfully of the empty place Sam used to fill.

No longer did Gibby roam the halls clutching his shirtless chest in terror, waiting for the adversarial iCarly co-host to hunt him down and give him a new wedgie. No longer did Carly and I hang around the studio sipping ice teas with lemon slices and chatting amiably. No longer did Spencer leap around like a toddler, sending sporadic objects on fire every half-hour.

I could have come up with "no longers" for the next three quarters of an hour or so but I decided to brush off the sensitive subject.

A choked sigh burst from my pursed lips, carrying with it an unspoken guilt. No matter how much I attempted to tell myself that Sam would have left the Shay's apartment even if I hadn't kissed my ex-girlfriend some unconquerable mutterings still remained.

"_Man up, nub!" _

My eyes widened and shot in the direction of the mocking tone, only to narrow with disappointment. The hallway remained vacant, shadows permeating the normally serene atmosphere with a tinge of unease.

"Great, now I'm hearing things," I mumbled almost incoherently, shifting a little to relieve the built up pressure in my tense muscles.

The weirdest part of that inventive comment I'd heard moments before was how uncannily it resembled Sam's sardonic remarks. It was like my brain was so desperate just to hear a touch of her familiar sarcastic, griping mutterings that the nerve endings had resorted to pitching an imitation of my best friend.

My caramel irises shifted to gaze over the incredible view over the bricked edge of the fire escape, noting the countless towering apartment buildings and offices and even a shady casino or two. Yeah there were a few cases here and there for the LASD (Los Angeles Sheriff Department) to handle but for the most part Seattle was relatively safe.

But lately, things had taken a turn for the worst.

First came the brutal strangling of a preschooler named Griffin and his mother Clarise Porter just three days ago in Somerset Park; the most sickening part of the assassination was that threatening messages had been carved into the victims' pale skin.

Soon after was the tragic bus crash on the corner of West Avenue and Sixth Street, a horrendous accident that had resulted in over a dozen fatalities.

And lately, letters made out of magazine scraps had been thrust unceremoniously into several dozen citizens' mailbox. Within each letter a pungent drug had been dribbled over the scribbled words, releasing a surprisingly powerful incapacitating drug. Fathers and husbands had returned from work to find their wives and children lying on the cold floor, their throats slit and their beautiful outfits splattered with fresh blood.

And the oddest part about all of these seemingly unrelated attacks was that they had occurred just after Sam's death. It was almost like a wave of terrorists were sweeping in, devastating the nation and the blonde haired comedian had just happened to be murdered first.

"There had to be a reason why they chose you," I whispered, my voice catching a little as the primal emotion crept in, nearly unhindered.

My dull gaze flickered back to the city of Seattle, the multitude of buildings now cloaked under a swath of storm clouds. Maybe if I stared hard enough, long enough, just maybe Sam would come back.

"We can't do this without you," I fought myself admitting hoarsely.

For the longest time I'd found myself enthralled by Carly, content to simple squabble with the girl who completed our trio. As time had gone on Sam and I had gotten worse, our tempers steeping to the point of physical violence, but it still hadn't meant anything. As a matter of fact, I probably could have walked away from the obnoxious, wedgie-delivering girl without a second thought. And yet, she'd remained in my life like an obnoxious wart on your finger.

But now that my feelings for Carly had evaporated and now that all I wanted was to look upon the saucy, ham loving adolescent… she was gone.

It's funny how that works, huh?

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**S A M ' S / P O V**

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Floating down past the spatula robot I squeezed past the thin door at the end of the hall, traversing into Spencer's bedroom. Carly was still a sobbing wreck in the living room and it did no good to keep an eye on her until she'd calmed down and started talking rationally again.

I gazed around for a moment, unaccustomed to the artist's set-up. The only time I'd ever been back here was several years ago during one of Carly's infamous sleepovers:

"_So what do you want to watch?" Carly asked me politely, a charismatic smile inching up her face. Digging through the trough of random DVDs the soon-to-be web comedian pulled out several rectangular cases. _

_I snagged the disks from my best friend, pretending to ignore the disapproving look she was giving me. A quick scan of the contents in my hands sent an immediate frown gracing my lips, "You don't have anything good."_

"_What are you talking about?" The brunette wondered, confused. _

"_I mean, c'mon. A Walk to Remember and Moulon Rouge, seriously? These are both chick flicks," I pointed out, tossing them aside. _

"_Oh look…we're two chicks!" Carly pretended to be amazed, pointing emphatically between our two laughing faces. "Besides, those are both fantastic films. I cry every time I watch them."_

"_Yeah, because you're a girly-girl," I responded with an over-dramatic eye roll. "Where are all the PG-13 movies with the fighting and gore?"_

_My best friend shuddered, hugging one of the decorative pillows normally adorning their brand new, multi-colored couch, "We're only twelve, Sam. My dad doesn't want me watching PG-13 movies until I'm fourteen."_

"_So?" I scoffed, brushing back a curly strand of my faded yellow ringlets. "I'm twelve and I've seen Disturbia and Bladerunner." _

"_But…Bladerunner is rated….R," Carly whispered with a tiny shiver. _

"_Your point?" I questioned smartly, my expression softening slightly as I noticed the shocked pauses in my best friend's dark brown orbs. "Fine, let's just find a stupid rated G and watch that instead. We don't want your daddy coming and murdering us, now do we?"_

"_You're the best!" Carly cried joyfully, flinging her arms around me in a brief hug before releasing me. "Let's find a romance or something and pop it in here," she motioned to the DVD player. _

_I glanced for a brief second at the darkened hallway to the left of the front door, a mischievous smile working onto my face, "Let's watch the movie in Spencer's room."_

_Carly had just held up Boogie Bear Takes Manhattan in the palm of her hand and her grip loosened at my brazen comment, allowing the case to hit the carpet with a muted thud, "We can't!"_

"_And why not?" I challenged, heaving onto my feet with a grunt of displeasure. Padding into the kitchen I reached for a wooden bowl with an intricately designed rim, followed by two enormous bags of buttered popcorn. One wouldn't be enough with me here. _

"_Because…I…I mean…we…," the brunette comedian stuttered, unable to come up with a good reason. "We'll get in trouble."_

"_Relax, Shay," I insisted, throwing the two bags of popcorn into the microwave and pressing the 60 second button a couple times. A light flickered on in the contraption and it began to rotate the inner tray clockwise. "Spencer's on a date with Kylie tonight, so it's a non issue. We'll be out of there way before he gets home."_

"_If you're sure…" Carly's voice died off, clearly radiated how undecided she was on this issue. _

"_Of course I'm sure. Mama's never wrong," I announced magnificently, pulling open the microwave door as the machine started to beep. Pouring the popcorn into the wooden bowl I made my way into Spencer's bedroom, flopping onto the older man's bed. _

_Carly slunk in a moment later, her expression torn, "I'm not so sure about this, Sam."_

"_Chill; everything's fine, Carls. You're such a priss sometimes, you know that?" I told her mirthfully, rubbing her head and causing several strands of her luscious brunette locks to poof straight up. _

_The movie seemed to roll by too fast and the both of us were so enchanted by Boogie Bear singing his new hit single "Dummy Wubby Bear" that we didn't even see the two adults stumbling towards Spencer's bedroom. Carly's older brother had his arms tightly encircling his girlfriend and Kylie was busy undoing the buttons of his plaid shirt. They were both moaning and locked at the lips. _

"_Ewwww!" Carly shrieked, covering her eyes and instantly the duo broke apart, blushing furiously. _

"_Red Alert! Makeout patrol; I'm afraid we have a code 5.67 on our hands here," I pretended to rasp into a walkie-talkie. _

_Spencer wasn't amused. "You two were supposed to be asleep by now," he growled, for the first time in his life actually resembling a responsible adult. _

"_We're going right now," I replied smoothly, tugging on Carly's arm and dragging her as quickly as possible out of the adult's room. "Just don't 'make sandwiches' until we're asleep; listening to you two moaning erotically isn't exactly a calming influence!" _

"_Sam…" Spencer pointed in the direction of the stairs. "Carly, I expect you to explain the rules of our household to your best friend here, now."_

_My best friend agreed, tremulously. _

"_What were you thinking?" Carly snapped, her russet orbs glaring menacingly in my direction. _

_I simply shrugged, "Eh, it's not a big deal. I've already been arrested once, remember?"_

"_Sometimes I wonder why I hang out with you. I mean, no offense, you know that you're my best friend and I love you but face it…you're a nightmare!" She determined, guilt carrying in her melodious tone. _

"_Yeah," I agreed, nodding my head and patting the brunette's shoulder sympathetically._

Spencer lay sprawled out ungainly on the queen sized bed, the furrows on his forehead suggesting his sudden brooding temperament. It wasn't like the older sibling to drown in seriousness unless the situation absolutely demanded it. Spencer tended to ignore suggestive comments, I pointed out with a toss of my rebellious curls.

Even from here Carly's sobs carried traumatically, drenching the normally cheerful environment with an intense sobriety. With every _hic _thatemulated from his little sister Spencer shuddered, linking his fingers over his stomach tightly.

I would bet all of my time spent in juvy that Spencer wished he could be out there comforting Carly, but she wouldn't allow it. My best friend was caught in a conundrum so desperate that it nearly tossed me mercilessly into the pits of depression.

Miley Cyrus singing Party in the USA sent me jumping eight feet in the air, only to realize that it was Spencer's ringtone. _I should have marked him for a stalker kind of guy._

"Yello?" Spencer mumbled, a hint of his perky attitude peeking through his frown.

"Hey, man, guess who?" A familiar voice blared from the other end; the person was yelling so loud that I flinched, repressing the urge to cover my ears and sprint from the room.

"Um…Justin Bieber?" The artist replied half-heartedly, itching his armpit with the edge of his lanky fingers. _Gross. _

"Man, you're so far off. It's me! Socko!" The guy responded enthusiastically. "How's my best buddy doing?"

"I'm alright." Spencer's tone was all emotionless nonchalance.

"How's your little sis?" Socko wondered, his voice slimming down about a millimeter. "I know she was taking her best friend's death hard."

"Um…she's…" The elder Shay sibling paused for a moment and his mouth twisted into a grimace as Carly let out a particularly mournful howl. "She's crying her eyes out, actually."

"That's bad chiz," Socko pointed out seriously and several thudding sounds echoed from his end. I could practically imagine the middle-aged dude bounding up and down like some retarded filly. "Anyways, I've got a proposition for you."

"I'm not really in the mood," Spencer reiterated dully, running a trembling hand through his unkempt brown locks. I wouldn't be surprised if he pulled a leech out or something.

"But Putt-Putt International is having their annual event!" Socko cried, feinting a disappointed half-sob.

Spencer's lifeless gaze lit up a little bit. "Wait, the event where everything is one-tenth off normal price?" He asked, astounded.

"You know it!" The man chorused with a cheer. _I'm waiting for him to pump his fist in the air and become a blonde haired popular chick. _

"But nobody should ever miss it," The older sibling moaned. His lower lip jutted out in a pout. "I can't leave Carls though; she's really messed up over losing Sam. We both are." His mouth trembled a bit.

"Oh." Socko's excited attitude vanished instantly, replaced by forlorn despondency. "I get it; you think you're too cool for me now. Who's the chick who turned you away from our irreplaceable friendship?"

"There's no woman in my life currently," Spencer insisted, his mocha orbs shooting towards the door as Carly sobbed once more in a high-pitched keen. _She sounds like a heartbroken puppy. _

"Sure there isn't…" Socko mumbled doubtfully and with a roll of my eyes I'd treaded out of the artist's bedroom and back into the living room, breathing a sigh of relief. The scene hadn't really changed except Carly was now leaning against the wood counter, her breathing uneven and clogged with tears but somewhat steady nevertheless.

I hoisted myself onto the counter, watching the brunette closely as she reached for a picture frame, its solitary existence brightening the kitchen a little bit. As her slim fingers closed around the intricate frame I inhaled sharply, recognizing the figures the camera had captured in time instantly.

Freddie and Carly were embracing tightly; the male's head was burrowed into his girlfriend's neck where his nostrils were probably taking in as much of her lilac perfume as possible. Carly's moist lips were pressed delicately against her beau's cheek, leaving a slight smudged outline of her glossy red applier on his tanned skin.

Instead of flinging the print to the floor and shattering it like I would have expected, Carly set the valuable item back on the countertop, shivering slightly as she released her death grip on the frame.

"You know, I don't think I'll ever know how deep my feelings for you were," she mused, her voice fragile as a china doll, "because really, at first, I was just using you to make Sam jealous."

_Oh no she didn't. _My mouth tightened to a thin slit and my hands curled into knotted fists. I'd make a pact never to hurt my best friend and it wasn't like I could break it now, but I sure as hell wanted to throttle something or someone.

But my best friend was continuing her abstract monologue, I discovered, forcing myself to pay attention no matter how much I just wanted to stomp out of there. I couldn't be petty at a time like this.

"You always were bickering and talking with Sam and I guess I felt drastically overlooked," Carly confessed, her double-chocolate-chip frappacino colored eyes watching the snail-paced movement of the round clock on the eastern wall. "But when I started dating you I found that I really did like you; you were…are a good person, Freddie, but I don't think I can ever fully love you. Remember what you said after the whole taco-truck incident: I just thought I was in love with you? Well, I think that applies here nicely."

Apparently the dark haired adolescent was content speaking to Freddie through the basically empty apartment. _She's beginning to get as insane as I am. _

Carly sniffled and the tears filled her eyes once more, "But one thing I do know is that I'm going to miss you, Freddie, as a friend and a confidential source to absorb some of my feelings."

"Carl-ay!" Spencer yelled ecstatically as he bounded from his bedroom, wearing an expression so joyful that I burst out laughing for the first time in days. I hadn't seen the elder Shay sibling like this since before my untimely death.

Carly shrieked, first in shock more than anything else, and then anger, "Spencer! Don't scare me like that!" An undertow of depression still throttled the happy emotions in the room, but it was better than nothing.

The artist's grin dimmed slightly at his sister's apparent desire to ostracize herself from the rest of the world, "Socko invited me to Putt-Putt International's annual 10% off event! I just can't pass this up!" _There's good old Spencey. _

I finally pulled myself back from the senseless giggle fit, turning my mirthful look towards Carly to anticipate her to-be-expected chastising remark.

Instead, she barked, "What the hell is wrong with you?" _Carls must be seriously pissed off to curse in even the slightest infraction. _

Spencer frowned, trying to make sense of his little sister's depressing soliloquy, "What –"

"Sam was just _murdered _a few days ago and you're going to _golf_!" Carly's voice was shrill with disbelief and horror.

"Yes, I know, but –"

"No, apparently you don't, otherwise you'd be staying home!" The brunette planted her hands firmly on her hips and shot her brother a withering glare. "Did Sam mean anything to you, Spencer?"

"Of course I'm devastated over Sam's death, but –" Spencer groaned in frustration as he was cut off yet again.

"Then why are you _leaving_?" Carly shrieked, her hands grasping at her thin tendrils of dark waves and nearly pulling several clumps out.

"Because I think Sam would want us to move on and live again," Spencer blurted out super fast before his little sister could interject.

Carly didn't bother responding, but her smoldering look was proof enough of her utter disbelief and inner torment. Flipping her black hair over her shoulders she turned her back on her sibling.

"Looks, Carls, I know this is really hard for you, but –"

"No, you don't know! You have absolutely no clue what I'm going through!" My best friend screamed, only the slight twitch to her nose revealing just how guilty this made her feel.

I knew that she hated to argue with anyone; she really did have a gentle heart, just the opposite of me. Well, fine, I do have a semi-warm heart, when I feel safe enough.

"Do we really have to argue over this?" Spencer asked her, making sure to keep his voice level, calm.

"Just go to your stupid Putt-Putt event," Carly snapped, still refusing to meet her brother's extremely concerned gaze. She didn't want to see the hurt in his cool orbs, didn't want to know the pain she was inflicting.

I watched as Spencer gave his little sister a last worried glance before grabbing his leather wallet and disappearing down the hallway. The front door clicked softly shut behind his retreating form.

"I'm sorry, Spencer," Carly admitted a moment too late. Tears streaked in smooth patterns down her face, plopping down onto the counter one droplet at a time.

"Why are you doing this to yourself?" I questioned quietly, brushing back my unruly curls in a single swatch attempt.

My dancing cerulean orbs glistened with empathy for the brunette struggling to breathe across the room; it seemed that no matter how horribly she hurt me I always crawled back in a feeble attempt to assure her safety. Love makes no sense.

Several agonizingly protracted minutes passed in which my best friend flitted around the kitchen, fixing herself some chicken parmesan for lunch; the dish seemed a little fancy, I reflected as she sprinkled a healthy dose of grated cheese onto the steaming meal, but perhaps it was just the brunette's way of coping.

I would never subject myself to that kind of labor.

After taking more than ample time to chew each bite Carly meticulously washed the dishes and loaded the dishwater, setting it to _normal_ and _heated dry_ before starting the new cycle.

More than an hour and a half had passed before Carly returned to slump on the couch, pulling out her cell phone, apparently resigned to her mysterious fate. After jabbing in a combination of numbers the brunette sunk into the couch, the color bleeding out of her skin as the dial tone resounded once and then twice.

Sinking beside my best friend I attempted to read the caller ID but apparently Carly didn't want anybody else to view her private business, because I couldn't make out the symbols. _Damn ghostly retributions. _

Three….four rings passed and Carly's lips began to tremble fastidiously, "Please don't let her answer…"

_Now why do I have a sneaking suspicion of the devil she's calling?_

Finally an icy voice crooned, "I knew you'd call."

My whole body snapped to attention, stiffening with each passing moment as recollections of the same hoarse tone croaking absolutes to me at the pier revolved persistently. _My murderer…_

Carly bowed her head, inhaling piercingly and whispered in a tortured tone, "I ended it with Freddie, just like you wanted me to. Please don't make me do anything else. I'm sick of this." There were brief snippets of bravery still visible in my best friend's tone, a defiance she didn't often portray.

The woman on the other end of the line cackled, seemingly unaffected by Carly's persistence, "Ah, but you know you have no choice in the matter, do you not?"

"There are always two roads to choose from, the broad and the narrow," the brunette quoted Pilgrim's Progress easily, her eyelids narrowing just a bit.

The cloaked figure drew in a jagged breath before replying in a threatening tone, "I distinctly recall us discussing what happens to your family if you decide to back out of this." She didn't even have to raise her voice to make her point very clear.

Carly's breath hitched momentarily, revealing how petrified this lady left her, "Please, please you promised not to hurt them! Please, please don't!"

It was an ignominy to see my best friend reduced to this pitiful state. My vision tinted scarlet, a mutinous color, preceding my notably rash behavior.

My murderer chuckled forebodingly, clearly enjoying listening to her figurative prisoner writhe with fear, "A promise is a promise, and I do keep my promises. As long as you don't back out of this I won't have my henchmen kill your family. But, if you fail, then I'm afraid you will never see your brother or your father ever again. Tsk, tsk that would be such a shame." The figure pointed out gleefully.

"You don't know where I live, or where my father is stationed," Carly hissed in a last attempt at insubordination.

But my murderer only snarled, "Don't test me, Carlota Shay! I know, for a fact, that you and your brother Spencer currently reside in Bushwell Plaza in apartment 8C!" ((I apologize if I got that wrong, I honestly don't remember what the apartment number is.))

As my best friend gasped, dismayed, the woman continued in a growl, "Furthermore, your father is stationed currently in Alaska; you pointed out the obvious on your webcast several months prior." There was a victorious edge to the cloaked figure's pitch.

There was a gaping silence in the conversation before finally Carly whispered, defeated, "Fine, you win. But as soon as you have what you want then I'm out. I don't want anything more to do with you."

"That won't be a problem," the voice cooed, "But, you must swear never to unveil this magnificent plan of mine, even after it is complete, or there will be dire consequences." I didn't doubt those words for even a miniscule second.

Carly shuddered, murmuring in a venomous attitude, "I hate you."

The serial killer chortled, entertained by her prey's determination, "As if I actually care what you think of me. You are merely a pawn in this game, Carly Shay."

"What the hell are you talking about? What game?" Carly questioned, utterly baffled.

"You are clever, child, attempting to decipher my plan," the woman responded liltingly, "but you're not that clever, at least, not compared to me."

"If you're so smart then explain why half the nation's sheriff collaborations are out preparing to hunt you down? Apparently you didn't conceal your tracks well enough." Carly antagonized and inwardly I gave her a pat on the back for her surprisingly Sam-like taunts.

But once more my murderer sighed, as though bored of this bickering, "Do you really think I'm that stupid?"

"Um…yes?" Carly's answer came out more like a question.

The cloaked figure guffawed bluntly, "Look around you, Carly; do you see the desecration? All those murders were planned by none other than moi!" She explained, pausing to laugh maniacally.

"You monster!" Carly screamed, completely losing composure. "How dare you kill all those innocent people! I hope you rot in hell!"

"You'll regret those words, Miss Shay," my killer muttered balefully. "Don't forget to complete the rest of your part. I will check in soon."

She laughed evilly and hung up.

Carly literally bent over in grief, holding her sides in a claw-like grasp as the humongous sobs wracked her frail body. _I guess all that dread had to come out some time. _

All I could do was sit there, utterly and completely stunned. Some part of my psyche was probably pounding at my nearly fried brain and remarking blatantly that I had to quit acting like such a sissy. Sam Puckett had to be strong, no matter what the circumstances. But if such a phenomenon was occurring I'd blocked it out for a bit; no I wasn't going to break down in tears, that just wasn't who I was, but I was allowed what Carls called a "moment" to react like a semi-normal teenage girl.

This whole mystery went a whole lot deeper than I had ever imagined, far more cavernous and despicable, for sure. But I had at least been right about one thing, no matter how tiny it was. Carly Shay wasn't the mastermind behind my murder, someone else was. _Well, whoop-de-doo…how does that solve anything?_

I laughed humorlessly to myself as the despair weighed on my heart. I had to impede the cloaked woman before it was too late; of course, I didn't have an exact clue of what 'too late' could be defined as, but a rough draft consisted of the end of the world type scenarios.

I didn't have a single lead to go on.

I felt utterly defenseless for the second time in my life. The first had been the night out on the fire escape, the moment when my tongue knotted into inconceivable formations.

My killer roamed the Earth massacring dozens of innocents, thrashing closer to Carly, Freddie and Spencer with each passing instant.

And time was running out.

* * *

Hours passed in a wistful fashion.

I must have dozed off or something; that wasn't really a shock, considering who I was. My eyelashes flickered open lazily, my cobalt orbs enlarging to the size of ping pong balls as I spotted Carly slumping down the stairs sullenly.

But this wasn't the same best friend I'd known since elementary school. In fact, she didn't even resembling the peace-keeping brunette.

The iCarly host had slipped on a sequined mini-skirt that ended three-fourths of the way up her thigh, barely concealing her panties from view. Her top was strapless and red velvet, accentuating her B-sized cups. Three inch heels sent her ankles twisting with each incremental step; more than likely she'd accumulate a nasty sprain by the end of the night. Dangly gold hoops hung from her earlobes and several necklaces adorned her slim décolletage, beaming with several carats.

Carly had way overdone her makeup, as well: Black eye-liner obscured half her lids and mascara clumped in miniature piles on her upper and lower lashes; ruby lipstick puffed out her lips, showing off her gleaming white teeth.

"Dear God," I whispered, unable to mumble anything more coherent. She'd basically shocked me into silence with this rebellious act.

The brunette's russet gaze traveled nervously around the room and I quickly guessed that she wasn't at all comfortable with sneaking out like this.

After several instants of deliberation Carly swung a cross-strap, slim, silver purse over her left shoulder and exited the apartment, wincing as she tripped over her enormous heels. I didn't blame her.

Once slipping out of the lobby Carly traveled leisurely towards a tinted black BMW in the car lot. The shimmering vehicle growled relentlessly like a panther, its span covering several parking spaces.

"You're late," a man's voice pointed out sharply, his arm resting in a crooked manner just outside the window. Plumes of dark gray smoke drifted idly from the tightly rolled edge of a Camel cigarette and a moment later the driver took a steady drag, exhaling steadily. "Get in the car, babe."

"Sorry I kept you waiting," the brunette whispered, hooking her fingers around the passenger door and pulling it open before sliding onto the leather seat. Her legs crossed almost automatically while her hands busied themselves strapping her seatbelt and pulling on her chemise and mini-skirt.

"No need to be nervous, sweetheart," the dude chortled, squeezing her shoulder a little too roughly. Tears bloomed in Carly's eyes but she hid them almost instantly, "We're gonna have some fun tonight."

"Can't wait," the iCarly host mumbled, shooting her partner a seductive smirk, the corners of her rosy red lips turning upwards slightly.

* * *

My indigo orbs traced the blinking outline of the Hooters sign hoisted several dozen feet in the air. For some unknown reason every time I thought of the place I got a weird image of an owl with a hacking cough in my head; weird, I know.

But now was not the time to be entertaining opinions on wheezing nocturnal creatures.

Tomorrow was my last day to live and even now the clock traced closer and closer to midnight; not to mention that my best friend was currently stepping inside the bar with the creepy driver dude. Some distinct part of me rehearsed the notion that he was probably going to rape my best friend, an inkling I attempted not to bring up, otherwise I might go off on a massive rage.

Glancing down at my appearance I dared a chorus of steps towards the entrance of Hooters, slipping past a couple of dudes with skulls imprinted on dark shirts and circular lobe piercings. After watching Carly sneak out of her own apartment I'd rushed up to her room and grabbed an assortment of clothes; now I pulled off, fantastically I might admit, coal black skinny jeans and a glinting gold sequin blouse. I hadn't bothered with makeup other than a coat of cherry lip-gloss mainly due to stress.

Thankfully I'd caught a taxi with a rich, snooty couple headed in the basically same direction as Carly; I'd automatically assumed that the crazy driver dude accompanying my best friend would be headed to this shady establishment, possibly due to the Hooters flyer that he'd left cracked open on the dashboard.

Crude music from such artists as Rihanna and B.O.B featuring Eminem floated out through the swinging doors of the bar and I shoved my way into the building. A smirk lilted onto my face immediately; this used to be my kind of scene and in a way…it would always remain my get-away route.

Bodies swayed sensually to the beat and beer bottles clinked dangerously. Two guys wrestled for no reason whatsoever over by the Big Screen flashing pictures of a nude Brittany Spears; the bartender flashed me a lazy green, his thumbs tracing absentminded patterns on the maple wood table in front of him, "What'll it be, missy? Tequila, or Vermouth, perhaps?"

For a second I fell back, utterly stunned, "How the hell can you see me?" Instantly I regretted my remark. _Oh yeah, those closer to an unstable mentality can glimpse ghosts, my bad. _

"Should I not be able to see you, honey-bee?" The bartender slurred, chugging down a bit more of his vodka.

"Never mind," I muttered distractedly, my gaze launching around the swirling colors of the dance floor, seeking out Carly; but neither she nor her driver were in the main room. _Just great; he's going to knock up my best friend now!_

"You look like you're…looking for somebody," the guy behind the table pointed out with a toothy grin.

"No shit, Sherlock," I remarked sarcastically. "Have you seen a timid looking brunette in a sequined mini-skirt, pumps and a strapless top?"

"You mean the one hanging out with the creepy dude?" The bartender wondered, spinning a little on the spot and whistling a merry tune from a stupid Disney movie or something.

A random dude slumped onto the counter-top beside me, sinking through my steadily fading form without a clue, "Hit me, Casper!"

"Cool, I thought he was creepy too!" I chuckled before zeroing back into focus. "Did you see where they went?"

Casper served the half-stoned guy seated next to me and the adult scurried back off into the mix of swaying, sweating bodies with a grunt of pleasure; by the looks of it, he'd polish off the new drink in about ten seconds.

Flipping my blonde ringlets viciously back behind my shoulders I shot the bartender a cocky grin, "Now tell me where Ca…the girl and the creepy dude went."

I almost gave away Carly's name, pulling back at the last second; it was practically defacement to toss out a name without thinking twice about the consequences. You never knew what people around here would do with the 4-1-1.

"Upstairs, last I saw," Casper shrugged before flipping back to the automated machines churning sluggishly behind him. His jerkin tightened slightly around his rounded belly, exposing just how long it'd been since his last good workout.

"Thanks, Cas," I extended warmly, turning to head up the stairs. _Who knows what that sick bastard is doing to Carls?_

"Yo, Puckett; you should come around sometime. All the guys miss your company," Casper pleaded good-naturedly. Then again he was drunk half out of consciousness and more than likely had absolutely no clue what he was spitting out; _example 1: he's been talking to a ghost for the past five minutes. _

I swallowed hard, fighting back the emotions, rolling my eyes at how something so incredibly simple could get me to think to such a great extent, "I wish I could, Casper."

Without another word to the bartender I trudged determinedly up the rusty stairwell, wincing as the individual steps creaked and groaned ominously with each footfall.

Crimson darted through my gaze as I spotted the creepy driver dude pressing Carly a little too tightly up against the taupe colored wall, his lips sucking against her neck. My best friend was trembling horrendously but there was absolutely nothing she could do; he'd overpowered her in a second.

"C'mon, Carls, fight him!" I cried vehemently.

* * *

**C A R L Y ' S / P O V **

**

* * *

**

****

Jared's tongue darted out to streak across my now bruised skin, leaving a trail of dripping saliva behind. His fingers gripping my waist rigidly, sending spasms of pain shooting up my spine; every instant I would attempt to break away and flee his iron-hard grip would only tightly incrementally.

My back arched treacherously against the wallpaper; I didn't want to like the shapes his tongue was tracing delicately against my skin but it seemed I had no choice, "Jared, stop, please!"

"We're gonna have some fun tonight, baby," Jared crooned, smashing his lips against my jaw line and leaving sloppy kisses as he went.

"No, I don't want to!" Fear was beginning to overcome the sensual urgencies of my flesh and valiantly I pushed against the man's chest, endeavoring to pry him off my torso.

"Don't fight me, Carlotta," Jared hissed menacingly, kissing my frosted cheek several times. His brooding orbs captured my own in an intense battle for dominion.

A choked sob emitted from my shuddering lips and I pushed at the driver's chest once more, fighting weakly. Instantly, his grasp restrained any former movement I might have obtained, "STOP!"

Jared slapped a hand over my mouth and dragged me additionally towards the bedrooms; the toes of my strappy high heels dug into the burgundy carpet, tearing little slits into the worn fabric. I began to cry.

_C'mon, Carls, fight him!_

The prodding voice in my head sounded so much like Sam that I froze momentarily in my tracks, allowing Jared to haul me several feet closer to the queen sized beds and packets of condoms, "I'm trying, Sam. I'm trying so hard," I whispered lifelessly, plowing my glittering shoes into the ground once more.

"Let her go." The masculine tenor voice rang out commandingly and my terrified chocolate orbs connected with the russet ones of the boy standing a few feet away.

"Yeah, right," Jared crowed with a chortle, attempting to push past the young man, "now let us through."

My eyes flashed over the boy's figure as he stepped into the dim light of the bulb overhead; his windswept hair gathered in blond clumps on his rounded head and his pale lips pursed defiantly. Emotion glinted in the brown irises so close and yet so different than my own. _Okay, so he's a little cute. _

"No, Jared; let her go," the mysterious figure exclaimed tightly, feinting a blow to his opponents left hip and covering his own body as Jared swung a fist at his face.

Jared flinched as the guy's fist connected with the side of his head and released his strangling grip on my wrists. I let out a little gasp of pain, massaging my skin where it'd turned first purple and then blue with lack of circulation. _Why am I being so stupid? Run while Jared's distracted!_

The two men scuffled briefly as I darted for the stairs, pausing when my rescuer let out a grunt. My gaze paused on the blonde haired adolescent and for some inconceivable reason I couldn't seem to move; an indescribable force struggled to propel me towards the boy around my own tender eighteen years and for the moment everything had flipped 180 degrees.

Twenty seconds ago I'd been fighting to get away and now I was fighting to run over and save my rescuer. But I probably shouldn't have worried about the odds anyhow.

The blonde haired boy delivered a swift kick to Jared's most sensitive spot and the latter dropped to the floor with a groan, "Like I said, let her go!"

"Whatever," Jared mumbled with a slew of curses. "Just get the hell out of here before I change my mind and bang the little vixen until she spits up blood!" He glared murderously in my direction and I found myself shrinking against the wall, my eyes cluttered with tears.

"Get lost, Jared," my rescuer spat with a little shake of his head and finally the creepy driver skulked down the stairs to rejoin the fray.

I bit my lower lip, drawing a droplet of metallic tasting blood to the surface of the muscle, "Stay away from me!"

"Don't worry," he began awkwardly, running a hand through his tangled blonde locks. His russet orbs fixated themselves on my face once more, "I'm not going to hurt you like Jared was threatening."

"Y-you know Jared," I mumbled, crossing my arms over my chest. "How?"

"He's a familiar face here at the bar," the young man explained with a roll of his eyes. "I catch a glimpse of him every once in awhile."

"You don't look legal," I attempted pressing harshly. _Anything to make me appear as the strong one in this situation. _

"I'm not," he admitted with a little chuckle. "I'll graduate at the end of this semester. But speaking of legal…you could pass of as sixteen."

"I could not!" I argued heatedly, brushing back a renegade strand of my brunette curls.

"Enlighten me then," the boy teased in a familiar tone. "Name? Age?"

"Carly Shay, age eighteen," I revealed in a tone that meant don't-screw-with-me-right-now. _I really am starting to sound like Sam. *sigh* But is that a good thing or a bad thing? _"You?"

"Austin Romano, age eighteen," he replied, flashing me a saucy grin.

I should have sprinted out of there but I couldn't find the reflex.

"So neither of us are legal," I pointed out dim-wittedly. "I should probably get out of here then."

"Hey, I'll give you a ride," Austin offered and instantly my guard shot back up.

"Um, no offense, but for all I know you could be a total man-whore," I shot back rather callously. "I'll be fine."

"Trust me when I say I am nowhere near Man-whore Ville," the blonde young man countered with a short laugh. "I'm actually looking to major in filming at the University of Central Florida."

"Really?" The question slipped my lips before I could reclaim it, followed quickly by: "My friend Freddie is interested in filming as well."

"Cool, I'll have to meet him sometime," Austin remarked with a casual grin.

"Uh, no you won't," I responded defensively, shrugging off his arm when he attempted to sling it about my shoulders. "I have to go."

"I'll walk you to your car," Austin volunteered quietly. He began heading in the direction of the stairs, pausing to glance, bemused, in my direction when I didn't follow.

"I'll be fine," I persisted coolly. "I don't even know you."

"Technically we swapped names so we do, in fact, _know _each other," Austin tested mirthfully. It was clear he was getting a hoot out of this whole conversation. _Damn my charismatic personality. _

"Well, that's all we'll ever know about each other," I defended brusquely, my expression softening slightly as a hurt look crossed my rescuer's face.

"Alright then, I'll just leave you to it, then," he mumbled dejectedly. _Don't do it, don't fall for his puppy dog expression. _

"Wait!" I called out, mentally slapping myself for my compassionate nature. "I'm sorry, Austin."

He smiled softly,"It's all good. So, where's your car parked?"

I flushed as I realized the corner I'd backed myself into, "Well…um…I…"

"You didn't come here alone, did you?" _Damn, he's perceptive, too._

"No," I admitted with a rough sigh. "Jared drove me here but I don't trust a return trip home with that psychotic…" I broke off. Bad-mouthing other individuals just wasn't in my nature.

"Allow me then." Austin crooked his arm in my direction, waiting for my nod of approval before I rested my hand on his ligament.

_What the hell did I just get myself into?_

_

* * *

_

**S A M ' S / P O V **

* * *

Seeing as I needed a ride home as well I tagged along with Carls and Austin, shooting destitute glances at the boy's back every few seconds.

Sure the kid seemed harmless enough but I'd learned over my seasoned years never to trust anyone without flat out proof. _Not like I can interfere anyways if he does something rash, though. _

But after subsisting through a simple twenty minute car ride with the duo I'd discovered that there was absolutely nothing to be afraid of. Was he dangerous? _No._ How about annoying as hell_? Yeah, definitely._

In a way Austin resembled Freddie, personality wise. Physically speaking, however, the boy had accumulated a multitude of finely developed muscles and his blonde haired brown eyed look was to die for. _Figuratively, of course, seeing as though I've already passed that rather uncomfortable transition in life. _

Carly was smart enough to have Austin drop her off at the corner opposing Bushwell Plaza, so as not to give away her exact residence, at least. She refused point blank to give him her number or any other contact information she might possess and offered him a tiny smile before leaving him there in the parking lot of Jimmy Deans.

I paused, situating myself in the front passenger seat for a second as I studied Austin, noting the especially dopey smirk that had weaved onto his lips.

"You'd better not be falling for my best friend," I started in a vicious mumble, throwing my hands up in exasperation as he turned the keys out of the ignition and popped out of the car. A quick glance caught him loping towards the burger joint. _I should have known…_

In any other circumstance I would have joined him but considering the inhabitants of the restaurant watching food float in the air turned me away from the idea. Anyways, I had to check up on how Carly was doing, not to mention figure out how the hell I was going to fix everything before the clock stroked midnight tomorrow evening. _I know; it's just like a fairy tale. _

But sitting there in that moment I sort of wished that I could have just been sitting their waiting for Austin because we wanted to hang out. Sure he might possess nubbish qualities but his hotness made up for it.

For a day or two I just wanted to forget about my impending doom and chill out for old times sake.

For just a moment I wanted to pretend that everything was normal.

As if.

* * *

Carly hadn't gotten very far by the time I caught up to her on the sixth floor; our doorman, being his normal crappy, loathsome, Lewberty self had refused to call a repairman to tinker with the busted up elevator.

This left only the stairs as a form of transportation.

Which equaled exercise. which I really wasn't in the mood for.

Anyways, after making my mumbling, grumbling way up the rickety stairwell I reached Carly just as she was sliding the lock into her front door. Just before the wood rectangle slid open, I caught a ghost of a smile on Carly's face, a trace of the joy she used to consistently emit before my murder. Austin had brought the life back to my best friend's face, I realized with a slight start.

And then, the door was open, revealing the totally desecrated living room. The brunette's crude hopefulness disappeared only to be replaced a split second later by a furious scowl.

The couch had been flipped over and currently resided lopsidedly to the side of the kitchen island. The big screen TV was shattered, shards of glass swaying precariously from the jagged gash in the expensive equipment. The rug had somehow been contorted into the shape of a unicorn and now stood watch from the counter separating the living area from Swimmy IV and the rest of the apartment's interior.

And standing, clutching mini-golf clubs in strangling grips, stood Spencer and Socko, sweat dripping from their brows.

Each man bore their teeth in the beginning of a snarl before swinging the wedge shaped weapons at each other's faces. The sticks connected with each other with a sharp _whap _before pulling back and preparing to thrash once more.

"Spencer, what the _hell_ is going on?" Carly shrieked, too utterly flabbergasted to bother checking her language.

"Well, you see," Spencer began in a falsetto tone, screaming girlishly as Socko's racket hit the former's thigh, "it started out as a perfect evening as Putt Putt International and then when Socko lost he threw a hissy fit and started beating me up with his sand wedge!"

Somehow I couldn't say I was even surprised.

"And you brought the clubs home _why_?" The brunette's tone had risen to a mere squeak, nearly undetectable.

"Well, the manager kicked us out for unnecessary violence," Spencer attempted to explain rationally.

My sapphire orbs connected with Socko, glancing at his less than fit structure. I'd never met the man; Spencer had mentioned him dozens of times, however, and those recommendations alone had struck my interest.

He looked exactly as I thought he would: neon undershirt, plaid jacket with several holes in the bottoms of the pockets (he'd probably lost a fair amount of cash due to that,) bright green Robin Hood leggings and huge, charcoal rubber shoes. His mouth was chapped and his nose remained a rosy crimson from exertion. His padded belly stuck out due to the uncomfortable position of the tights. His bright (yellow like the sun) eyes widened every time he inhaled, giving him the curious impersonation of an owl with a whooping cough.

"Socko, get out. _Now_." Carly's tone wasn't one to be trifled with at the moment.

Socko gave a last menacing thrust of the neck towards Spencer before tossing his club over his shoulder in a fantastic golfer impersonation and stalking about.

"Why did you kick him out? We weren't done sparring!" Spencer's bottom lip jutted out as the complaint took root in the atmosphere, dropping the temperature by a figurative thirty degrees at least.

One glance at Carly's incredulous expression was enough to guarantee a screaming match. _This won't be pretty._

"I leave you alone for a couple hours and I come home to find the living room _trashed_!" She began with a waggle of her pointer finger. "You're supposed to be the adult in this apartment, Spencer Cornelius!" _Uh-oh. Carly only uses his middle name when she's seriously pissed off. _

"But, I -" Spencer started to object but his little sister quickly cut him off.

"Why can't you just be responsible for _once_?" Carly screamed and for a second I saw the all too familiar darkness flit into her gaze.

"When did you start avoiding me and then screaming over every little infraction, huh?" Spencer countered, his russet orbs widening considerably as Carly leaned over him; this was quite an accomplishment considering the artist had to be at least 6'4.

"Sam's DEAD and you're acting like nothing changed!" Carly yelled, tears brimming in her stormy glower.

Spencer's eyes widened with that difficult admission and as he looked down at his little sister compassion glinted in his chocolate irises, "This has nothing to do with the trashed living room, does it?"

Carly didn't dignify a response, only spinning to face the shadowed doorway, her shoulders sagging incrementally.

"Carls?" The artist whispered gently, reaching out so that his fingertips could brush the iCarly host's shoulder.

She flinched away immediately, her gaze filled with a combination of horror and disgust, "Don't _touch _me." With those hurtful extrications the brunette fled for the stairs, sprinting towards the solitude of her bedroom.

I watched as Spencer slumped onto one of the barstools, inhaling shakily; after several monumental pauses tears began to drip from the older man's eyes, dribbling in sporadic successions down his hollow cheeks. It felt wrong somehow to be observing the guy I'd always looked up to breaking down like this but I couldn't seem to break away.

_I did this to them. I destroyed their lives and now they're suffering. Why did I have to be so damn stupid? _

"I don't know what to do, Dad," Spencer mumbled into the growing silence, his shoulder-blades hunched with unimaginable tension. "I don't know how to help her when all she does is push me away." He sniffled once and then brushed at the mucus gathering under his nostrils.

_Don't give up on her _was what I ached to tell the artist but we were separated by wormholes upon wormholes of dimensions, the final barrier transcending into a place unavailable to those currently living.

The clock struck midnight. I had one day left to solve my murder before God banished me to hell.

* * *

I suppose I should have enjoyed my last night of peaceful slumber but my heart and mind were too clogged up with conflicting sensations. Carly tossed and turned on her comforter as well; I could distinctly make out the creaks and groans from my precarious position on the downstairs couch.

But all I could seem to accomplish was staring down the clock as it ticked monotonously, each tick-tock shoveling away another one of my precious minutes. Now I had 23 hours left to live…and now 22 hours.

21 hours struck with a resounding gong and I bit my lower lip, feeling a bit feverish. My skin shimmering incessantly, fading into a beige discrepancy and yet so uniform in the same execution.

The freezing temperature of the apartment stung my pores now and I reluctantly reached for a striped (ugh, stripes) pillow, hugging it to my chest and endeavoring to regain my body heat. But perhaps this wasn't just a physical phenomenon; after all, my mental state must have frozen up with a conscience understanding of my limited time.

I couldn't get warm.

Tossing the pillow with a frustrated moan to the side I crept inaudibly towards the thermostat, wincing over-dramatically as I discovered that Spencer had set it to a breezy 65 degrees. I shouldn't have been so freezing cold, I determined; this whole ghost experience was making me way too mushy inside.

Just then a thump resonated from the stairwell and I craned my neck to glance over at the platform just as Carly descended, rubbing her eyes. A yawn escaped her emancipated lips as she shuffled in zombie-fashion towards the kitchen, slumping into one of the chairs.

"I'm sorry, Spencer." I didn't know that Carly had whispered the words until a long moment later. _What? Being tired makes me stupid!_

My vision zoomed in a particular sight as the brunette shifted her arm and I started shaking, my fingers tightly gripping the edge of the counter for support. Diminutive ruby dots covered Carly's whole right hand and wrist and a quick glance proved that a similar treatment had occurred to the left ligament as well.

"You're hurting yourself," I stated quietly, unable to muster the rage anymore. I'd been all too furious at random individuals lately but now I just couldn't find the resource.

"C-carly?" A male voice wondered and a moment later the fierce glow of a flashlight permeated the darkness, searing away my earlier serenity. Now I was simply irritated.

Carly whirled to face the hunched figure of her brother; her gaze softened slightly as she noticed the bloated and bruised skin circling Spencer's exhausted gaze, "Um, hey."

"We need to talk," he responded with a yawn, his hand stretching up to cup his gaping appendage.

"There's nothing to talk about," the young woman countered bleakly, struggling to hide the quickly emigrating droplets. Several _hics _escaped, giving her position away.

"Carls?" Spencer stooped to his little sister's height, his calloused hand gently gripping the brunette's shuddering shoulder. This time she didn't shake his grasp off, however.

"I can't talk about it," she insisted in a barely coherent tone, her voice clotted with tears. Burying her face into her crossed arms she continued in a muffled face, "If I t-talk about it then it just m-makes it all the more r-real."

"You can't run away from your past. Eventually it will catch up with you and pull you into an inescapable depression," Spencer noted wisely, empathy catching in his intense gaze.

"It already h-has caught me," she answered dully. "But that d-doesn't mean I h-have to talk about it."

"What's going on?" The artist wondered as gently as possible. Another grouping of _hics _emulated from the web star's mouth, causing her brother's eyebrows to rise with concern.

Carly finally raised her head up from the table and met his concerned gaze, the tears sparkling in her tortured eyes, a memorial to just how deep this was cutting her, "I'm finally feeling it."

"Feeling what?" He asked her although he already had a pretty good idea about what resulted in her broken cries during the night.

Carly inhaled sharply, bordering on hysteria, the tears granulating in mismatched spirals down her cheeks. Her chest heaved upwards into a better seating position but the effort caused yet more tears to spill from her narrowed eyes; she resembled one who had lost all their strength.

Finally she whispered in a lifeless tone, "I finally feel the hole in my heart, the place where she's missing."

Understanding dawned in Spencer's eyes and he rubbed his sister's back slowly, "It's hard, isn't it?"

Carly nodded weakly, and spoke again in that small defeated voice, "I didn't think it would hurt this much."

The artist's eyebrows rose in sync, his expression clearly bemused, "You've thought about Sam dying before she actually died?"

Carly paused as though weighing the importance of her answer before nodding slightly. A sob cracked through her previous soundless cries, "I thought about it all the time. I thought about how I never wanted to lose her, and what I would do if I did."

"Ahh," Spencer mused, nodding his head slightly, "I understand." _But you don't._

The room lapsed into silence for a moment until the sobs began making Carly's body shake. But these heart-wrenching cries weren't just pure grief; a tablespoon of insanity had been poured into the mix and now it surfaced, rearing its scaly head, "No, you don't understand!"

Spencer looked at Carly, alarmed, "What are you -"

"I did this!" Carly screamed. _She's officially gone over the deep end. _"I'm the reason she's dead! I pushed her away! I didn't want her to come between Freddie and me! And now, she's dead!"

Spencer was too stunned to speak for a moment, giving an unconscious leeway for his little sister to continue ranting, "Calm down, Carls…"

"No, I won't calm down!" Carly shrieked demonically. "You can't possibly understand what I've been going through this past week. This guilt is KILLING me and it's never going to go away! I could have SAVED her!" She choked on her hysterical sobs for a moment.

"You had absolutely nothing to do with Sam's death, Carly. You couldn't have prevented it," Spencer attempted to appease the young woman pacing frantically in front of him. But she was already way too far past the point.

"No, Spencer, I was involved in her murder. I could have _saved_ her and yet I just stood back and let them kill my best f-friend!" Carly admitted finally, a statement that sent my head whirling with a slew of new questions.

Without another glance at her brother the comedian rushed back off to the safety of her bed where perhaps the grievous nightmares couldn't haunt her.

Being Sam, I hurried over to the fridge and pried it over, satisfied that Spencer was too far in shock to care about his prominent surroundings. Besides, when devastating events occur I eat. I eat and I eat and it makes me feel better.

But as soon as I spotted the banana cream pie from Galini's bakery just several blocks to the south of Bushwell Plaza sitting on the second to lowest shelf in the cooling device my breath hitched and moisture saturated my frequently dry sapphire orbs. As much as I didn't want to face the memory it broke through my rapidly crumbling barriers and forced itself into every nook and cranny of my consciousness.

"_I want pie," Freddie mumbled as he attempted to push past Carly._

"_No, no no!" Carly cautioned as she positioned herself back in front of Freddie, "No pie."_

"_Why?" Freddie whined._

"_We're trying to make it last until Mr. Gallini is out of the hospital," Carly explained patiently._

_Freddie sighed dramatically and then his eyes widened as he saw Sam eating the last Gallini pie, "Then how come Sam get's some?"_

"_Sam doesn't get any AHHH!" Carly screamed as she turned around and spotted Sam eating the pie, a blissful expression on her face. "Put that down!" She demanded as she rushed towards Sam._

"_No!" Sam shrieked, and the two girls began bickering as they rushed around the island, Carly chasing her best friend, and Sam still eating the pie, until Sam rushed into the living room, knocking Freddie to the floor._

_They ran around the living room table, screaming their heads off, until Spencer came into the room and shouted, "Whoa, whoa calm down, what's going on?"_

"_Sam's got the pie," Carly explained breathlessly and Spencer shrieked, "PIE!" _

_Sam took off running upstairs as Spencer chased after her, knocking poor Freddie back down onto the floor again, knocking the breath out of him. He lied there groaning as there came a door slam from upstairs._

"_What happened?" Carly called up as Spencer came down, a grim expression on his face, "She locked herself in the bathroom."_

"_Well that's it!" Freddie exclaimed, "She's gonna sit down in there and finish it!"_

"_Well its okay," Spencer reassured the two teenagers. "I called the hospital and they said that Mr. Gallini checked out yesterday."_

_Carly and Freddie exchanged relieved glances just as the elevator door opened and Sam came out, holding the empty pie tin in her hands. She sighed and then spoke, "I decided to share this with you guys."_

"_You already finished it," Freddie remarked._

"_Yeah, I decided too late," Sam defended herself, giving them a sheepish look._

"What am I going to do?" I whispered to the encompassing silence, a tear slipping down my left cheek.

* * *

**C A R L Y ' S / P O V **

* * *

My legs seemed ready to give out with every step towards my bedroom; my hazelnut orbs wheeled suspiciously as though I was about to be caught doing something illegal.

_Inhale. Exhale. _It should be so simple, right? Breathing is a trait necessary to preserve the human race.

_Inhale. Exhale. _So why did every pant scrape the walls of my throat and uvula as though threatening to tear my skin into shreds?

_Inhale. _Black spots danced in my vision and I collapsed to the ground paralleling the rickety atmosphere below. Tears burned my vision.

_Exhale. _I wasn't dying but I wished to God that I was, that I could somehow escape this merciless reality and transcend into eternal peace.

_Inhale. _A raggedy sob tore from my lips, permeating the thickening shadows in front of my trembling form. It hurt, God, it hurt so damn bad.

_Exhale. _Guilt swamped my normally charismatic personality, drowning it and wrecking it into an unrecognizable chaos. Guilt for dating Freddie when I knew in my heart I'd been wrong, guilt for being jealous of Sam and Freddie and the beautiful yet so intense chemistry they shared. There was guilt for myself in the wrong crowd where sadistic temptations whirled unhindered, guilt for allowing myself to stand there and watch as _she _plunged the dagger into Sam's heart. There was guilt over the countless bottles of alcohol I'd imbibed and the red dots the angry point of a pin had left scattered across my snowy skin.

I felt like I'd just spontaneously combust because there was no possible way I could bind back these crashing emotions anymore. _I don't even want to live anymore._

Because nobody cared about me, not after the atrocious acts I'd committed. Besides, I didn't need any of them and I never would.

_Inhale. _I made a semblance of a bear crawl towards my room, the heartbroken sobs ripping from my chest in quick succession.

"_Ah, man, I didn't know __that__ was gonna be here!" Freddie cried. _

"_She. I'm a she, Freddie, as in a __girl__!" Sam retorted. _

It hurt, so, so bad. It felt like someone was taking a red-hot poker and jabbing it into my heart over and over again, ignoring my feeble pleas. My heart seemed to be pumping out the agony and spreading it throughout every single muscle in my body. I couldn't move, I just couldn't do anything anymore.

Somehow I'd managed to stumble into my room and slam the door shut with trembling fingers.

"_David Archuleta," the announcer revealed with a huge grin. _

_Immediately Sam and Carly jumped up screaming and enveloped one another in a strong embrace. _

Ripping open the plastered door of my nightstand I reached for the shimmering blade hidden beneath a montage of journals kept since third grade, a Red Sox ball cap and several dozen pens and pencils.

The agony arched through my body in a torrent and a sickening blackness made my head spin. I vomited across the carpet, watching the pinkish gunk seep through the floor onto unsuspecting heads in the living room below. My very bones seemed to be writhing with the flickering demons.

"_I just said I didn't think his videos were all that funny! He's the one who overreacted and started this whole brouhaha!" Freddie snarled, throwing his hands up for extra emphasis. _

"_Brouhaha?" Sam's jaw fell open with a mixture of her usual sarcasm and shock._

"_You can't say things like brouhaha and not expect people to hit you," Carly delegated regretfully, flashing her blonde co-host a smirk. _

The knife slid across my pale skin, raising goose-bumps (which Sam had loved to call kinklebumps for no apparent reason.) Another moment and the blade slashed, drawing a stream of crimson to streak down my wrist. Burning pain began flickering around the edges of the incision and it made me laugh, momentarily carefree. _At least I can still feel pain. I must be alive. _

_Exhale. _Pain seeped through my very neurons, stimulating what felt like a raging heart attack, although I knew it wasn't. The pain was all in my head, discounting the gash on my wrist, of course.

"_Sam and Freddie are here," Carly announced as she walked in to see her brother sculpting a gigantic replica of Newton Balls. _

"_When aren't they here?" Spencer mused, glancing down at the tree. _

"_Good point," Sam acknowledged, giving the sculpture a brazen glance. _

"_So true," Freddie echoed, tousling his hair a bit._

The knife slashed again and agony steeped up my trembling arm before centering on the thin cuts where blood now freely flowed, draining the life from my vital organs. Ignoring the pain I cut once more, wincing as the blade skimmed the edge of a vein, sending a spiral of crimson droplets shooting outward.

I wasn't cutting to kill. I simply wanted to know that I was alive in one of the most basic forms I knew how.

Because as much as the gashes throbbed and ached it sent hope whooshing through my rapidly fluttering heart. It was just like Spencer had told me just a few minutes ago: _You can't run away from your past. Eventually it will catch up with you and pull you into an inescapable depression. _

"Look at me now, Spencer," I choked out, panic seizing me as my heart fluctuated rather steeply. "I'm done running away from the pain."

"_Hey," Freddie greeted his two friends as he entered the Shay's apartment, "What are you guys doin'?"_

_Sam leaned to the side, eyeing the brunette, "Carly's teaching me how to be girlier."_

"_And I'm outta here," Freddie mumbled, spinning on the balls of his feet to head for the door once more. _

"_Wait!" Carly cried, rising to her feet as the young man paused to glance questioningly in her direction. _

"_What?" He wondered, a tinge of trepidation visible in his tenor tone. _

"_I want you to roleplay with Sam so she can practice what to do when she likes a guy," Carly told him sweetly. _

_Freddie's eyes widened a bit as Sam jokingly (or maybe joking, it was hard to tell) puckered her lips and then he made a mad dash for the door. _

_Rushing after him Carly through her full weight against the door, prohibiting him from exiting, "Come on." She whined. _

"_No," he grumbled, a hint of fear creeping into his gaze. _

"_For me?" Carly begged, flashing him a puppy dog look that would surely snag him and reel him back in. _

_Finally Freddie groaned in surrender and the iCarly co-host's lithe fingers closed around his wrist, pulling him towards Sam, "Come along." _

I just wanted to rip my damn heart out and toss it into the street; I wanted to watch it convulse and then erupt as a bus ran over it, splattering the gooey contents all over the street.

If this wasn't true insanity then I didn't know what was.

Another slash and blood dribbled in rivulets onto my clenched hand. The dark splotches were dancing in my vision once more as I resolutely continued slicing up the rest of my arm. My splayed flesh glistened eerily in the moonlight, the skin cells drying to a crackly rose-white distortion.

It felt like I was cracking apart from the inside out, like my bones and muscles were slowly breaking and tearing into dismembered piles. Soon all that was left of me would be a dusty old corpse. A practically lifeless corpse that nobody would ever miss; for though I had no imminent intentions to drain the life out of my heart didn't mean that my mind was already too far gone.

"_This is Cal," Spencer introduced with the pointing of his thumb. _

"_Hi!" Carly chimed politely while Sam grunted out, "Hey." _

"_He just moved into our building," the elder Shay sibling continued in his spunky tone. _

"_Nice," Carly commented, being the sweetheart she was. _

"_So, Cal," Sam remarked dryly, shrugging her shoulders a bit as she rotated in front of her best friend, "you got a teenage brother? Maybe one a little better lookin' then you?" She asserted._

_The two web-show hosts smiled at each other. _

Finally I flung the scarlet-coated knife to the side, too weak to continue torturing myself with the blissful agony the blade created with every stripping of flesh. Slumping onto my bed I allowed a deluge of tears to spill down my hollowed cheeks, a sentiment to my dead best friend.

For a second I entertained the notion of picturing Sam in my mind but thought better of it. _I will be strong. _

My eyelids fluttered closed, droplets still leaking from under my dark lashes; the sobs erupted like a ferocious gale from my very soul and I curled into a little ball, the blood dampening my comforter with a ruby tinge. Eventually, some time later, the tears would fade away, for I could only cry for so long.

But the heartbroken realization would remain, tugging of my lifeline and prodding me to let go of my reality.

And so I would slip into slumber, praying that perhaps for the sliver of an evening my battered conscience could experience peace, not the mind-numbing guilt that normally poured through my all too skinny body like sizzling, flammable oil every damn night.

I could practically envision the scene now.

For in my dreams I would be tied to a stake, oil coating my skin and leaving the pores coated with the squelchy liquid. A multitude of black-cloaked figures would be parading around my sodden form, whispering praises to the Almighty God that they would never have to suffer my terrible fate.

And then Sam would be there, clothed in a magnificent, sparkling blue gown; her chilly demeanor would pierce my like a knife, so kindred to the blood-encrusted blade that currently lay on my carpeted floor back in my bedroom. Her fingers would enclose around a black striped match and, striking it against the crumbling millstone by my hip until smoke billowed from the rounded edges.

And with no second thoughts or compassion whatsoever Sam would drop the crackling match onto my soaked body and watch as the simple stick of burning wood would ignite my skin into a writhing pyre.

God knows I deserved it.

* * *

**SPARKNOTES: **

**Yes, so depressing, I know, but I really liked this installment, no matter how much time it took me to edit. After it was done I checked the word count and it came out to: 13,466. Not bad, huh?**

**Anyways, I will continue to edit this story in all my spare time (haha, that was a joke, because I practically don't have any spare time anymore.) **

**Until then, enjoy!**

**-mktoddsparky**


	10. Part Nine

**Part Nine**

_**Hey peoples! I really hope you enjoy this part, even though it's drastically shorter than the last part. They can't all be 14,000 words + every time, considering that school's a pain and I'm sick right now so it's extremely difficult to get anything done. **_

* * *

You know the moment in life you wished everything would just rewind back to the time in your life where all you worried about was what colored crayons you drew with and the answer to 2 plus 2?

Yeah, that pretty much described my mental state this morning.

Dawn had just crested the craggy russet mountains in the distance when my eyelids fluttered open. Had I been Carly the dried remains of tear-tracks would have streaked my face but now all that remained was a sort of bleak hopelessness.

Sighing melancholy I dusted off the skin tight jeans I'd snatched from Carly's dresser just last night, perusing the wrinkles that infested the black, shimmering fabric. The clock adorning the beige coated wall let out a squeaking noise, commemorating the fact that 7am had just struck. In the next second the device groaned suggestively and heaved off the drywall, crashing to the ground with a sizzling pop.

Two weeks ago Spencer would have bolted from his room clad in nothing but boxers, waving a vacuum and threatening to permeate the disorder, but –

In that exact second the artist zoomed into the living room, clutching a vacuum in his sweaty palms, shock battling protectiveness on his face. _Well, I guess some things never change. _

Once discovering that the disturbance had been caused by the clock Spencer grumbled a host of unintelligible syllables, pressing the power button on the nearest remote. The TV flickered to life and then panned in on an attractive brunette reporting the latest fatalities.

"We've just been informed of a brutal murder near Cromwell Hall," the portly reporter noted with a grim smile at her audience. "The victim was none other than Arnold Briggs, son of Miss Francine Briggs, who barely escaped with her own life."

"Hmm, Briggs had a kid?" I mused thoughtful, unconsciously knotting my fingers together as Spencer slouched towards the cabinets lining the kitchen walls.

"After interviewing several students over the matter this reporter has managed to piece together the facts," the brunette articulated with a perfectly proud smile. "Arnold happened to be crossing Seattle Community College's campus when a tinted van pulled over, yanking the unsuspecting student into the vehicle. Hours later his body was discovered in a dingy alley."

Surprisingly I actually pitied Miss Briggs right now, a feat highly uncommon from my perspective.

"The most disturbing attribute of this specific case was the threatening message carved into Arnold's skin: _You're next, Seattle_," the reporter concluded tremulously, clearly faking her whole emotional "breakdown."

"Sick bastards," Spencer swore heatedly, changing channels to Celebrities Underwater where Brittany Spears was desperately attempt to claw her way towards a breathable atmosphere.

I rolled my eyes at the normally irresponsible adult, a smirk settling on my lips as Spencer tripped over a random skateboard lying in the middle of the floor, crumpling to the floor and flinging the steaming coffee all over himself.

Agonized screams filled the loft as Spencer writhed on the floor, his skin blistering.

Seconds later Carly stomped down the stairs, bouncing on one foot as she attempted to buckle the strap on her Jimmy Chu boot, "Why are you screaming?"

I noted that the brunette had donned a burgundy, striped long sleeved shirt with a mini skirt that incorporated purple swirls. The skin of her legs was covered in crimson dots and several cuts, proving her poor shaving job that morning and the tights she'd squeezed on did nothing to hide the fact. Her dark hair fell in soft waves but if you looked closely you'd spot areas where clumps of the ringlets had disconnected from her scalp.

Carly was a crumbling mess hidden by skimpy clothing and gobs of makeup.

Spencer muttered a handful of mush words that sounded somewhat like _murder, skateboard and coffee, _a strangled whimper escaping his parched lips.

With an exasperated sigh the web comedian helped her brother to his feet before clomping into the kitchen and pouring herself the remaining brew of coffee. After adding two pours of hazelnut flavoring, a pinch of creamer and a dash of sugar she raised it to her mouth and took a generous sip.

Carly's eyes sank as she continued to down the caffeinated beverage, clearly disappointed by the result of her chugging choice. _It's as if she thought a simple cup of Joe would solve world hunger or something. _

And that might be just it, I conceded with a dim frown. Carly was so past the point of rational decision making that she probably wished there was just a quick-fix, a skip button on a DVD menu that would zoom past all the imperfections and pain in her short lifespan.

"Spencer listen…" she began a moment later and I considered bolting for the stairs, having tired of their disagreements.

Then again, if I really only had fifteen hours to live I wanted to spend it around my loved ones.

"Yeah?" Spencer's tone was cautious; he clearly anticipated the same outrageous outcome that I did.

"I –" My best friend paused, as though unable to coerce a coherent statement. "I'm sorry."

I froze in my position halfway to the first step leading to the studio, my mouth flapping open at the two words. _What's this?_

Just several hours beforehand the brunette had been sobbing heartbrokenly and when I'd gone in to check in on her I'd discovered a pinkish vomit spewed across the carpet and a blood stained knife thrown carelessly to the side. A quick glance at Carly's wrists had confirmed that she'd indeed cut again, but so much worse this time. She'd nicked a vein in her wrist, in fact, nearly causing her untimely death.

Swallowing back the dizzying images I'd seen last night I turned my sole attention back to the siblings. _How could you do this to yourself, Carls? You're not ready to die, trust me on this one. _

"W-what?" Spencer stuttered, apparently caught off guard as well. His brown orbs widened a bit as he fought to rein in his shock.

"I'm sorry," Carly repeated, the tears welling up her eyes. "I've been acting like a total bitch lately and I'm so sorry."

"Oh." The artist mumbled, shoving his hands into his front pockets.

Carly rocked back on her heels, swallowing hard, "You were right, about what you said last night. I was just too stubborn to hear it."

"I was?" Spencer asked. _How stupid can you be?_

I moved unconsciously towards the fridge as I watched their lopsided encounter. Spencer looked ready to bolt from the room, a combination of surprise and utter confusion battling for dominance on his face. Carly, on the other hand, resembled a rag doll, ready to collapse into dozens of stuffed ligaments.

"Yeah." Now Carly resembled the awkward one. Taking another deep breath and exhaling sharply she whispered, "I totally understand if you can't forgive me." She turned to head back up the stairs.

"Whoa, wait a second," the elder Shay sibling called out, running a shaky hand through his dirty hair.

"What's going on here?" The words slipped from his lips; stuttering, hesitant. "Just last night you were screaming in my face about how I don't understand and now you're _apologizing_?"

He wasn't mad; that much I could tell, simply shocked at the whole confrontation.

Carly didn't respond but her shoulders slumped and from my current position near the fridge I could see a glistening tear trail down her cheek; the first of many, I presumed. I and my best friend were very common in the sense that we held all the hurt and pain inside, forcing a fake smile onto our lips to appease our family and friends, assuming that nobody wanted to hear about our issues.

The only problem with this was that over time all the agony and torture built up inside us and eventually exploded out in a random sobbing fit. I had originally thought that Carly had gotten some of it out last night but looking into her russet irises now I picked up on a certain desperation she hadn't shared in months.

"What's going on, Carls?" Spencer wondered, gently.

Silence followed, broken only by a subtle choking sound. Carly's whole body began to shake slightly as more hot tears streaked down her cheeks.

_Tell him everything, Carls. Just tell him. He can help you, _I thought as I dug into the ham lying on the second shelf in the fridge. But even the action of shoving the delectable meaty treat down my throat brought no sense of contentment or joy like normal circumstances.

I still felt inconceivably empty.

"You can tell me anything, you know that, right?" Spencer stated sweetly, extending his hand as if to brush his fingers against Carly's shoulder; only, he was a good eight feet away. "I love you, kiddo."

Carly's body was trembling violently by now. "You can't possibly love me after what I've done," she whispered harshly, fighting to keep from collapsing onto the floor.

"You're my little sis; I'll love you no matter what you've done," the artist revealed with one of his old smiles. Sadness tinged the lifting of his lips, but the joy was still there. It was only tempered.

I watched my best friend, waiting for her reaction. _Tell him, please…for me. _

Finally Carly turned to face her brother, the tears still urgently streaming down her pale skin, "I miss Sam, Spencer. I miss her so fucking much." A sob ripped its way out of her throat.

As Spencer ventured a step forward his sister she backed up a little, "Carly…I…"

What could he possibly say? Nothing he could say could bring me back to life…absolutely nothing.

"Sometimes I wonder if it's actually worth living anymore," Carly continued, her pitch steadily rising past the haunting whisper. Tears fell from her jaw-line and hit the carpet with inaudible splashes.

"How can you –" Spencer began, but he was immediately cut off.

"I broke up with Freddie and now he doesn't want to be friends with me anymore. Sam is gone. iCarly is dead and I'm all alone," the brunette cried desperately, sobs wracking her wasting form. "I've hurt so many people…I don't even deserve to live!"

"Don't you ever say that!" Spencer yelled suddenly, wrapping his arms around his little sister before she could squirm away. "You have so many people that love and care for you…how can you possibly even think about throwing that away?"

Carly's head thudded down on her brother's chest and for a long time she just cried, letting loose all the pain this week had caused her.

I felt moisture gathering in my eyes but pushed it back, unwilling to cry at the sight. Faces swirled in my peripherals: me, Freddie, Carly, Gibby, Spencer, Lewbert, Mrs. Benson…everyone that I had hurt because I was so damn selfish.

"I don't want to leave," I whimpered into the space in front of my motionless form, momentarily blocking out my best friend retching sobs.

* * *

**F R E D D I E ' S P O V**

* * *

My fork traveled across the expanse of my blue china plate, simply unable to poke into the low-fat waffles baked with pickle juice batter. It wasn't the scent of the unappetizing meal that sent my stomach churning; no, all that hindered my movement was the color of the plate.

Blue: the color of Sam's eyes.

"Freddie-bear?" My mom's concerned tone broke my thoughts and I glanced up at her questioningly.

"You're not eating your waffles," she continued in the same worried tone, leaning slightly in my direction and allowing the sugar-free syrup coating her waffles to drench her crimson blouse.

Crimson: the color of Sam's blood spilling out onto the sidewalk as she gasped her last breaths.

"I guess I'm just not hungry," I replied evenly, averting my pained gaze from her scrutiny.

"Oh, alright then." My mom gave in, surprisingly, without a fight. I guess it was because I hadn't been eating much in days and she figured that it was related to Sam's death.

She was right.

I endeavored to push the picture of the blonde haired co-host smiling radiantly in front of the camera back at our last iCarly, to no avail. Even when we'd shot the footage to celebrate our four year anniversary since the beginning of the web show I'd noticed the dull gleam to her normally bright orbs; how I could have been so stupid as to push it off, I didn't know.

"I'll be in my room," I mumbled evasively, walking as fast as humanly possible to the safety of my own four walls.

As my gaze traveled around the contents of my room for just a second I wished that I could throw a fit and completely destroy the space. Then again, I probably could; my mom would just faint and then demand I clean it up.

And so, with that in mind, I reached for the baseball bat I always kept hidden under my comforter and swung without abandon at the wall, smiling bleakly as it cracked a dent in the drywall. Another heartfelt thrust of the sports equipment and a gash was ripped through the paint job, marring the normally tidy wall.

My mom didn't come in to check what possible crime I was committing. _Smart of her. _

A last swing shattered the glass of the window, raining shards of the sparkling material down upon my suspecting form and slashing thin cuts in my skin. And with that I slumped down on the ground, burying my head in my hands.

"_Maybe Carly's right! Maybe you're just jealous!"_

"_Just…just forget it, okay? Fine….don't believe me…" and with that the blonde headed demon began pacing back in the direction of the stairs. _

"Look at me now, Sam," I muttered with a silly grin, ignoring the tears that had budded in the corners of my eyes. "I'm so, so _happy_ now!" My voice cracked.

_Guilt overpowered his earlier anger, "Give me one good reason why I should believe you!" _

_She paused, shooting him a vulnerable glance, "Because I came here."_

I knew that Sam probably would have been calling me a pansy right about now. She would have forced the robust smirk onto her mouth and cocked her eyebrows, telling me to get up and move on with my life. Because nothing ever got fixed by doing nothing.

_He shrugged at her comment, while inside his emotions whirled, the truth smacking him right in the face. She'd actually come to him for help. Sam Puckett never wanted help, especially not from him, her least favorite 'nub.'_

"_Have I ever come to you before, about anything?" She asked softly. _

My fingers hooked around the sleek surface of my laptop, pulling it onto my lap and pushing the power button. I inhaled tensely as the screen flickered to life, revealing the background image of the iCarly trio. _We all looked so happy then. _

Seeking my own face in the photo I gazed closer, seeing how my arm encircled Carly's waist, my fingers cupping Sam's waist while the blonde attempted to evade my touch. I remembered feeling guilty as I put my arm around Carly and knowing that the picture would resemble a romantic point with a third wheel attached, so I'd included Sam in the sidewise protective movement.

Clicking on my Sony Vega app I maneuvered around the video editing section, pausing as I reached a particular iCarly video. This specific installment had struck a sensitive nerve and now I couldn't seem to forget what had occurred not only in front of the camera but behind the scenes as well.

I pressed on the episode and skipped to the very end of it, leaning back as I prepared to watch the segment.

"Well I think that's everything!" Carly was exclaiming joyfully; her hair was still in the old style, the part directly in the center and the dark brown locks stick straight to the utmost perfection.

"Not quite," Sam disproved with a significant glance at her brunette counterpart. The blonde's hair wove sporadic patterns and yet at the same time it formed an indescribable symmetry. She hadn't yet reached the stage of curling her hair to the extreme, a post-decision that made her look so much younger in this video then six months later.

I broke from my thoughts, realizing that I'd missed another minute of the video while in my memory trance. So, backing the show up fifty-six seconds I resumed watching.

"So, last week, Freddie handcuffed me to a dork," Sam was continuing in a victorious tone, her oceanic orbs brimming with mischievous joy. "And now, it's payback time. Guess what?" She paused for dramatic effect, shooting the boy behind the camera what could have been construed as a slightly guilty look. "Freddie's never kissed a girl!"

Carly's eyes bugged wide as Sam concluded; "Now we're done. Later." The blonde exited the studio and moments later the camera dropped to the floor, cutting the web-show off rather abruptly.

I hadn't even realized that I was silently crying until my fingers touched the tears rolling slowly down my cheeks. What had occurred just the next week was beyond bringing up, not to mention that it wasn't in video form, just in a foggy memory.

"_You know that kid…Freddie?" Sam slurred, still under the effect of the laughing gas. _

"_Yes, I know Freddie," Carly replied in a sing-song tone, confusion touching her gaze. _

_Leaning closer, Sam's eyelids fluttered closed and she whispered softly, dreamily, "We kissed…"_

I wasn't crying because it hurt, but believe me, God did it hurt. Sometimes when I actually took the time to contemplate an eternity without the blonde haired demon by my side my heart just ached. Because no matter how much time elapses after a loved one's death you never, ever forget.

I was crying because the sight of her and Carly doing their thing for iCarly brought with it almost unendurable agony followed closely by radiant joy. I was crying because I knew that Sam wasn't coming back and I had to move on. It was what she would have wanted me to do, I can state without a doubt.

For a second it was almost like Sam was standing there next to me, fixing her gaze on my hunched figure. Her blue eyes seemed to tell me an unspoken message: _Forgive and move on. I'll miss you, Benson. _She smiled regretfully and then vanished.

I knew what my holographic image of Sam meant by those words. _Forgive Carly and move on away from me. Do what makes you happy for once, Freddork; that's what it meant. _

The clock chimed seven-thirty, an indicator that I had to finish packing up my stuff and head off to school.

A last tear slipped down my cheek, and with it, my last hope for Sam to return. "I hope you're kicking it up there in heaven, Sam," I whispered. "I'm moving on."

* * *

**S A M ' S P O V**

* * *

Storm clouds gathered overhead as I exited Bushwell Plaza, pretending to ignore Lewbert's indignant screeches as he spotted the lobby's front door swing open, inviting some invisible creature into the space beyond.

_Fourteen and a half hours left_, I counted with a sigh, traipsing slowly towards the first place on my mental checklist of things-to-do-before-I'm-banned-to-hell.

As I crossed the desolate street, my eyes straining for the pizza man sign that signified that Rico's was open for business, a wind whipped around me, sending my arms to cross against my shaking shoulders, encasing the remaining warmth in my shivering form. I brushed my unruly bangs away from my eyes, pulling out a knot in the corner before resuming my walk.

Just down the street an overhead traffic light sputtered and then flickered out; I wasn't sure why the lamp was even on at this time of day, but whatever.

Now why did all that sound so familiar?

When I reached my destination I slumped down against the wall, eyeing the slight stain forever marking the cement. _My blood…_

A couple clearly went out of their way to avoid the slightly crimson patch, their looks alit with distain.

"Wonder where that spot came from?" The guy wondered, linking his fingers with his girlfriends and shooting a puzzling stare at the ruby tinged surface.

"I heard that a sixteen year old girl committed suicide on that very spot," the woman remarked with a disgusted sniff before tilting her head regally. "Hurry up; I prefer to remain a safe distance from that wretch's blood."

"For your information I'm seventeen, thank you very much," I hissed, my brooding gaze turning back towards the puddle of blood hidden just below the surface. My fingertips tingled with the urge to reach out and sap the life from that spot, as if doing so would reverse time and perhaps cure me of this horrendous predicament. _I guess it wouldn't hurt. _

Shrugging, I stretched my arm out, pressing my hand against the shockingly cold cement. When I pulled my fingers away, however, the only thing that had changed was that my fingers were drenched in sticky, crimson blood. My blood, the blood of the living just before the murderer struck.

What felt like a rock rolled around in the pit of my stomach and I blinked back tears, ashamed that the simple task of touching my own blood had reduced me into a sniveling _female. _

Getting up, I dusted off the skin tight jeans that I'd stolen from Carly's closet yesterday, noticing the rips I'd torn in the thighs of the material. _I don't even act like normal and yet I still manage to ruin clothing. Figures. _

A sudden thought struck me and without a second to even consider the problems with my choice I took off north, sliding right through the traffic stretching to the nearest off-ramp with no problem. My breaths escaped in startling pants as I sprinted, a purpose direct in my mind, causing me to blur away all my surroundings.

As soon as I reached the park I paused, realizing that I'd nearly passed right through a little boy and his mother. It wasn't even the fact that I was about to surpass their flesh and continue on my way, it was _who_ they were.

The little boy and his mother from the bus; the very bus that had rolled down the hill and exploded into an unidentifiable charred mass, killing every occupant aboard.

"Y-you're dead," I whispered, attempting to move my feet that currently felt like stone blocks. "You can't be here." The child's screams reverberated in my ears, the horrific memory of his last minutes replaying until I choked back sobs.

The mother looked at me, sympathy glinting in her proud gaze, "You're not supposed to be here either, Sam, but you are." She petted her little boy's hair and he nuzzled into her neck.

"How do you know my name?" I asked, utterly shocked.

"I know everything about you," she replied, shoving the boy towards in a sudden move.

"But I don't even know you," I stuttered disbelievingly. "I've only seen you once, just before your death."

The mother laughed then, the sound chilling and amazing all at the same time, "Don't you recognize us, Miss Puckett?"

It only took a moment for my entire composure to come crumbling down. Why we looked so much alike and why I experienced maternal instincts while watching the toddler slumber, "You're me. But…but that can't be…I would _know _if I had a kid."

"This is your reality if you hadn't been murdered," My older self responded with a brief smile.

"Great, so either way I go I die early in life. Just great," I groaned, running a shaky hand through my tresses as I digested all this new information. Suddenly, my expression softened a bit, "W-who…who do I marry and have a kid with?"

"I'm afraid I can't tell you that," she murmured with an empathetic glance in my direction. "You'll just have to discover it for yourself. But I can tell you one thing. He's loved you for a long time, even though he wasn't quite aware of it. He's a loving husband; he loves you so, so much, Sam. You have no idea." She broke off, her expression still a bit dreamy as she recalled _our _husband, future and past.

I paused again, looking down at the little boy as he clambered up my leg a bit, straining for me to pick him up. With a tiny smile I did so. "He loves me?" I finally asked her softly.

Future-me nodded, "Very much so. As does your son James." She motioned at the boy in my arms.

"I guess he'll have to move on then," I replied sadly, pressing my lips against James' forehead as his eyelids fluttered closer. Moisture gathered in my sapphire orbs as I gazed down upon my son, feeling a new piece of my heart break off and float away to God knows where. "He'll move on because I'm dead and I will never have the chance to discover that I love him too."

Future-me didn't answer but I really didn't expect her to. What was she supposed to say? _Yeah, Sam, you're right. You're never coming back so he'll have to learn to love another woman._

Finally I passed back my son to her, my fingers trailing off of his arm and missing his touch as soon as it depleted, "I should go."

"Sam?" My name slipped her lips as I turned to face the approaching storm clouds.

"Hmm?" I wondered, my eyebrows rising in sync.

"Don't forget about us," she pleaded, sorrow crossing her expression. She didn't reach out to hug me; being future-me, we both hated to accept gestures of kindness, especially physical contact.

"How could I?" The words came quietly and ended the conversation.

With a backwards glance at the duo I erupted into the skies, spreading my arms as I embraced the cumulonimbus clouds, feeling the rain patter against my skin and drenching me instantly. The wind buffeted my shivering form, encasing me in a chilly armor as I ascended higher yet, speeding towards my eventual destination.

And for a brief moment, I never wanted to come down.

* * *

**C A R L Y ' S P O V**

* * *

The jingle of the bell chimed as I opened the door of Galini's bakery, inhaling dreamily at the scent of freshly baked pies and hazelnut flavored coffee.

"Hey sweetheart," a waitress greeted me with a sympathetic smile. "I heard about your friend, and…"

"Thanks," I told her, while inside my heart was fracturing into millions of pieces. I didn't want to think about my best friend right now; I just couldn't handle the corresponding pain.

"Can I get a slice of banana cream pie please?" The question that slipped through my lips made me smile; that had always been Sam's favorite flavor of pie.

"Sure, darling," the waitress replied warmly, scribbling something down on a notepad. "Anything else?"

"Um...a cup of French Vanilla coffee as well, please," I added quietly, scanning the diner for an available booth. Luckily at this time of the morning there were only a few commuters gulping down pancakes and a cup of Joe before rushing off to work so several tables remained vacant.

"Sure thing; specifics on your coffee?" She wondered with a slight tilt of her head. A graying wisp of hair escaped her bandana and fluttered to curl around her chin.

"A doll of creamer and a spoonful of sugar, thanks," I mumbled with a brief smile before heading off to a booth in the very back of the diner. Flinging my navy blue backpack into the crook of the sill I allowed my muscles to unwind.

Leaning back against the painted wood of the head-rest I glanced out the smudged glass of the window, watching the rain pour down and plink in insurmountable quantities onto the sidewalk. A number of the chilling droplets were caught on the canvas overhang and finally dribbled down the tarp, splattering the beige exterior of Galini's diner.

"Didn't think I'd see you here," a male voice droned as his body sank into the opposite end of the booth.

My eyes shot upward and inwardly I groaned, "I don't remember inviting you to sit with me."

Austin rolled his eyes, smirking, "Well isn't that some way to treat the boy who saved you from becoming another one of those poor rape victims."

Rolling my eyes right back at him I exhaled shakily, "Whatever. I don't have time for this so if you're just planning to humiliate me then you may as well fuck off."

"Someone's touchy," he noted, his gaze softening as I bit my lower lip, fending off tears. "What's wrong…Carly, right?"

I nodded, affirming my name, "I'm fine."

"Sure you are," Austin responded with a thick sigh. "You know, you're not nearly as friendly as you appear on your web-show."

My eyes widened a bit in spite of my frustration, "You watch iCarly?"

"Yep," he conceded, smiling amiably before settling his joyful expression into a bemused glance. "Whatever happened to that girl you did it with…Susan?"

"Her name was Sam," I whispered, unwilling to approach that subject.

"Right, Sam," he agreed, smiling once more as the waitress appeared juggling my pie and coffee. "So?"

I purposely ignored him, turning a fake appreciative grin upon the slightly flustered waitress, "Thank you."

"No problem, honey," she replied, placing my pie on a supportive tin structure and my cup of steaming French Vanilla coffee on a decorative coaster. "Will there be anything else?"

"Um…" Just as I was about to dismiss her Austin chimed in.

"I'll have a cup of coffee. Just black," he instructed with a wily beam.

"Got it. Would you like a slice of pie to go with that?" Maria questioned. "The German Chocolate Delight is to die for," she hinted.

"No thanks," Austin denied, "I'll just share with my friend here." He nudged my shoulder with the flat of his palm. I flinched away from the casual touch as the waitress sauntered off.

"We're _not_ friends," I hissed through clenched teeth, pulling even further into the confines of my battered heart. "And don't count on getting a single bite of my pie."

"You know," Austin continued, completely passing by my melodramatic temper tantrum as though it had never occurred, "you never did tell me why Sam stopped doing iCarly."

Taking a sip of my blistering hot coffee I savored the rich taste, sipping as slowly as possible so I could avoid the boy's questions. Hail began to smack the window from outside and I feared that the thin sheet of glass would first crack and then shatter due to the irritating lumps.

"Why did you end your friendship with Sam?" He asked a bit sharper this time.

I pretended that I was the window, that the sheets of hail were plummeting and striking my fragile posture without mercy. The coffee cooled in my mouth and I swallowed hard, fading into the inanimate object; because when you were inanimate you didn't have to worry about such things as heartbreak and frustration. You could only exist to serve your individual purpose.

"I'll wait as long as it takes for you to open up to me," Austin murmured in a surprisingly gentle tone just as the waitress reappeared, setting down the cup of straight black coffee and waltzing back to deal with other customers.

I wanted to open up to him. I did; a shocking factor considering that I'd only met the kid once. But something was stopping me and I didn't know what.

So instead I dodged the pointed inquiry and chorused, "I have to get to school or I'll be late."

"You and I both know that Ridgeway's first period doesn't start until 8:30," he corrected with a know-it-all smirk. But his expression was all seriousness this time.

I was the window, the steadily fracturing glass. No human being could puncture my glimmering shield; nothing could hurt me.

"You go to Ridgeway." It wasn't a question. I poked the pointy edges of my shiny fork into the pie, swirling around the utensil until I located a plump banana slice.

"Yep. I transferred a few months back," Austin revealed, gazing a little too intimately into my eyes.

"Oh," I hummed, disconnected from my emotions, my feelings. I wouldn't let Austin do this to me, no matter how well he meant.

Popping the single banana bit into my mouth I bit down on the sweet fruit, enjoying the tangy yet sensible goodness. The banana was tart and sweet, but not too much so, unlike an orange, which Sam had particularly enjoyed. The banana was safe, unlike the orange. _I _was safe, the good child. I was alive, physically at least. Sam had been the rebel and now she lay cold in her grave buried beneath the soggy earth.

Suddenly Austin frowned, wrinkles popping up to browse his normally clear forehead, "Earlier, you said that Sam _was_ her name. Why did you…?" His voice died off as he connected the dots.

In my head I completed his sentence, already dreading my reply. He knew and I had to confirm his suspicions. _Earlier, you said that Sam was her name. Why did you use past tense?_

Spearing another banana slice with the tip of my fork I whispered, "Sam is dead."

Neither one of us spoke for a moment; we just sat there sipping our coffee and sampling the banana cream pie. To his credit Austin didn't bolt for the door and race away before he assumed the duties of picking up my crumpled heart and gluing it back together.

Finally Austin cleared his throat and I waited for the words I knew would come: _Oh, um, I'm so sorry for your loss, but, um, I have to go now. _

"When?" He asked.

I glanced up at him, my vision burning with tears, "What?" _Where's the stuttering and fleeing? Why is he still here? _

"When did Sam die?" He rephrased the question in a near emotionless tone. Only I noticed the catch in his voice as he regarded me again.

"Last week," I told him with a little shrug, taking another miniscule sip of my coffee. As much as I strived to fade into the inanimate window I couldn't do it. Why, you ask? What was the reason for the sudden warmth that shot across my skin like a wildfire?

Austin's hand curled around mine, his fingers slipping through the gaps and linking themselves with my petite ones. His touch burned; it was almost as acute as a physical pain because I couldn't let anyone touch me. Not after what I'd done to my best friend. I didn't deserve the caresses and fleeting kisses. No longer.

But I didn't pull away, no matter how much my heart was screaming for me to.

"It was a successful suicide attempt," I concluded hoarsely, averting my eyes to the linoleum lest he glimpse the guilt I was trying so hard to hide.

But apparently I didn't hide it well enough. "It wasn't suicide," he muttered, connecting his gaze with mine. Again, he knew.

"You don't know anything about it," I remarked coldly, glaring lasers into his face.

"I can read your face well enough to know that you're lying," he countered smoothly, pulling his hand away from mine.

"Nobody knows. You _can't_ know," I argued stupidly, tears still blinding me.

"You're dying to tell someone the truth. Someone, anyone," Austin hissed, grasping my face in between his hands. For a second I actually thought he was going to kiss me and for the briefest milli-second I wanted to kiss him too.

"It was suicide," I insisted, my voice cracked and frozen beyond measure.

And without another word to Austin I slung my backpack around one shoulder and bolted from the premise, welcoming the feel of the rain on my skin. It diluted the molten lava flowing through my arteries and veins, the fire consuming my heart in its fiery rage.

And in the protection of the rain I allowed the tears to spill down my cheeks. I didn't care that I was getting soaked. I didn't care that all the kids at school would stare, whisper, gossip and mock. I didn't care about any of that anymore.

"How could he know?" I wondered softly, turning my gaze to rest on the boy still camped out in the booth. His russet orbs were fixed solely on my shivering form.

I was drowning, drowning in his pools of chocolate. He was luring me in, bit by bit and soon I wouldn't be able to escape his lustful embrace.

Some inconceivable part of my twisted heart couldn't wait for that moment.

* * *

**S A M ' S P O V**

* * *

My house stood out like a crypt reaper in the row of welcoming porches and families playing party games in the living rooms. The bulb lighting the spindly deck leading to our front door flickered out, casting the patio and dying garden in threatening shadows.

I don't know why I wanted to go home. Carly's apartment felt way cozier than this hell-hole ever would. But still, something prodded me to take a peek and figure out just what my deranged mother was up to.

Lightning flashed across the sky like a mutated flashlight peering into the cloudy abyss as I cracked open my front door, peering into the dimly lit interior. A beer bottle clinked from the other room and although I first I rolled my eyes, disgusted with my mother for hosting a party just days after my passing I soon discovered this wasn't the case.

A flash of blonde hair drew my attention to the couch just as a hoarse voice rasped, "Damn cat opened the door again." The words were slurred but comprehensible.

Frothy hissed from his position on the TV, raising his back leg to piss all over the low-rate technology, as if to say _I didn't do it!_

Peeking over the edge of the couch I saw the most shocking display of my life.

My mom lay there, bunched up in a multitude of ripped blankets, her teeth chattering as she lifted up a greasy onion ring to her trembling lips. After attempting to take a tiny bite of the fatty food that she normally loved my mother spit it out, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, using the skin as a temporary napkin. Bloodshot rings encircled her eyes, accompanied by bruises and what looked like half a dozen hickeys. Tears trickled from the corners of her eyes in a despondent manner, sidling down her shrunken cheeks before splashing onto the rumpled blankets.

A random dude lay passed out on the floor, his nether regions thankfully covered up by a spare blanket. By the looks of it his clothes were still thrown in haphazard positions all around the living room. His hands clenched an empty beer bottle and his breath stank of alcohol.

Turning my attention back to my mom I watched as her fingers closed around a half crumpled photograph of none other than my ten year old self, her thumbs tracing the grooves of my face frozen there.

"God damn it, Sammy," she mumbled under her breath, sniffling as her eyelids slowly fluttered closed and she sank into slumber. More than likely she was all tired out from her erotic activities with the guy lying on the carpet, I figured. A last tear strolled down her face before her eyes finally dried.

"You did care," I whispered into the silent space, broken only by the sounds of the two extremely irresponsible adults' snores. "You loved me."

It was never something I'd actually thought about before. It'd always been easier and less painful to accept that my mom didn't give a crap whether I died or not.

Taking another look at the man on the floor I felt my lips curl into a sympathetic smirk as I spotted the shimmering gold wedding band on the fourth finger of his left hand. The smile wasn't for him, however, but his poor wife who probably had no idea of her husband's treacherous acts.

"What have you done, mom?" I asked bleakly, showering a disapproving glare upon my conceiver's limp body. _How could you just ruin someone's life because you're feeling a little needy?_

Then again her actions did have a definite purpose. It wasn't tolerable, but it did split the guilt to reside in a second party as well.

Me. This was my fault that she'd gone and slept with another guy, probably ruining his marriage. Because I was gone and she couldn't handle it, she stole another woman's man.

Stealing a last look at the woman who'd given birth to me I charged up the stairs, taking them two at a time in my haste to escape the horror downstairs. I slammed open the door to my bedroom without a hitch, knowing that the disturbance wouldn't wake my mother from her alcoholic prison.

My bedroom was still the same as it had been before I'd left the night of my death to go film iCarly and for whatever reason I was glad. Perhaps I just wanted to treasure the one aspect of my life that had remained somewhat normal, or maybe it was because I didn't want anybody touching my crap.

Over the years my room had varied different styles, based on my maturity of mind. At one point I had drenched the walls in spaghetti sauce and spray painted my bed and dresser bright crimson in an effort to appear, sort of, rebellious. The next year everything had been shrouded in mysterious black for my slight emo phase.

And yet, through all that, _I _hadn't changed.

Sure, I'd donned an assortment of styles but inside I guess I was just desperately searching for an imminent soul that would acknowledge my presence.

Then iCarly had started and I found the nub to argue with and although it wasn't perfect it made me feel alive in a way I couldn't describe. His harsh words gave me a reason to speak brusquely and act out in sketchy mannerisms.

And then he had to ruin it all by dating Carly. Sure, neither of us knew at the time that rather vulnerable and volatile feelings would develop, but _still_.

I glanced automatically at my mirrored closet doors, wincing as I remembered that I couldn't see my reflection unless I was directly touching the reflective surface. All I could see right now was thin air, all that remained of my once vivacious self. And after the stroke of midnight not even the outline of my ghostly figure would remain as a breath in the swirling wind.

My fingers stretched out then, pressing firmly against the mirror and smudging the clear glass. Instantly my reflection popped into existence and I gulped as I noted the writhing edges of my floating form. Even now little bits and pieces of me were breaking off and floating into the never ending abyss of hell.

And as my oceanic orbs paused on the ripped jeans and shimmering, sequined shirt it struck me like a lightning bolt.

"If I only have one day left to live I may as well dress like Sam Puckett," I stated with a crass jut of my head.

What followed after might best be expressed by the Bird Song Intro by Florence And The Machine; you know, it's like the part of a movie where they show the heroine getting ready and primped and all that junk.

Stripping my clothes off I stepped into the shower, resting my head against the tiled wall as the water tickled my skin with its freezing temperature. Soon enough the droplets heated and began to steam, sending waves of burning pain slipping down my body. And yet I didn't move. I just stood there, too exhausted to move a muscle, enjoying the feeling of the water cascading down my nude form.

After shampooing and conditioning twice I shut off the water and inhaled shakily before stepping out and wrapping one towel around my body. The smaller towel was then used to wring what felt like liters of water from my dirty blonde locks, the silky white bristles brushing against my pallid skin and restoring a bit of the warmth to my heart.

As I waited for my hair to dry I first rushed into my room to pick out some clothes. Unlike Carly my choice of outfits were slightly more limited so I simply threw on jeans and a Penny tee that read _Special Ham. _On my feet went slightly used socks and my well worn converse with little stars glued to the sides and random names doodled on the straps.

Once finished dressing I returned to the bathroom and began meticulously applying makeup. I know, normally I'm not one for makeup but cut me some slack. Foundation spread evenly and then a bit of blush followed by charcoal black eyeliner that brought out the sky blue in my irises. Next came sparkling blue eye-shadow and waterproof mascara.

Finally I released my hair from its toweled prison and set to drying it. My curler worked wonders and soon I had soft ringlets weaving perfectly around my face, illuminating my facial features and petite figure.

Once ready I shot a last fond glance at my bedroom, pausing as I saw several photos of me, Freddie and Carls just hanging out and having a blast. I knew that I would never see this room again.

Finally, with a bittersweet chuckle I left my home, ignoring the fact that my mom had sat up on the couch and was now rubbing her eyes in a vague attempt to clear her bleary vision. I knew that she saw me. But I didn't care.

Several raindrops peppered my skin, promising whatever sort of destitute reality they could offer, as the storm clouds systematically receded. As I took to the skies once more the winds pelted me in a whirling paradox, thrusting me towards my destination. As I flew I watched the commuters dodge in and out of traffic areas, saw high schoolers trudging towards Ridgeway and the fancy prep school over in the next district. Up here, it was easy to feel invincible.

Spreading my arms I allowed my eyelids to glide shut, my mind taking over and pushing me into an alternate reality. One in which I could just lie down and smell the roses and love life. Up here, I wasn't dead. Up here, they couldn't drag me to hell. Up here, I was Queen of the World.

But eventually even the Queen falls.

I glided down from the skies, my eyes opening reluctantly as I landed on my feet. My gaze shot around the desolate space, connecting with a single headstone with the name _Sam Puckett _engraved into the marker.

_Eventually everyone falls, some sooner than others. _

The thought of my body slowly rotting beneath the Earth sent my knees shuddering under the pressure of holding up my weight. My oceanic orbs would remained sealed forever deep in the ground, their light far expired, the heart gracing their movement ceased beating so long ago.

_I don't want to leave. _I don't know why it was such a hard statement to say out loud. Maybe it was hard because I knew wishing it wouldn't change my horrific fate.

Maybe it was because I knew that after today I would never see Freddie, Carly or Spencer ever again. Eventually they would die and have a jolly old time in Heaven while I remained screaming in agony down in the pit of hell.

"I don't want to leave." I forced the words out in little more than a choked whisper but it took everything I had.

My legs buckled underneath me and I curled into a little ball my grave, my heart hurting more than I'd ever imagined possible. Tears burned my eyes but I wouldn't let them fall; it took unsurpassable strength not to cry, something that I normally had no problem controlling.

And for the first time since the second day of my ghostly state I wondered where Nevel was, "Some guardian angel he is." I muttered angrily. _But, unfortunately, I could really use his help right about now. _

"Now, now, Samantha, is that any way to ask for help?" The simpering voice asked and the air in front of me shimmered unnaturally.

"W-who's there?" I questioned sharply, crossing my arms in front of my chest.

Seconds later Nevel appeared right in front of me, giving me his trademark pouty expression, his wings flapping gently behind his slightly levitating form.

I gritted my teeth, and growled, "What did I tell you about calling me….that name?" I cringed, glowering dangerously in the nub's direction.

I've always hated been called Samantha, for no reason really. I just always found the name weak and girly, everything that I wanted to avoid at all possible costs. I'd always been the strong one in the family, and so I'd needed a strong name to accompany my position.

The boy in front of me shrank back a little, already intimidated. _Good boy._ "Fine, I will oblige your request this once, **Sam**. What do you want from me?"

"Aren't you supposed to be helping me with this whole murder situation?" I hissed, my legs trembling as I fought to a standing position. "So far you've just been a useless lump!"

Nevel stiffened, "I don't appreciate your attitude. You know, I didn't have to respond to your grievous

I sighed heavily, wishing that I didn't have to stoop this low, but also knowing that I didn't really have a choice anymore. "I need help figuring out who murdered me. Can't you give me a hint, or a clue, anything?"

His eyes lit up in surprise and then he smirked that annoying little bratty smirk, "You need help from moi?" He pointed at his chest.

"Don't get used to it, Papperman," I hissed, shifted my feet, glad that I couldn't feel the ache of walking anymore. I would have been seriously screwed right now, with all the traveling I've been doing.

"I'm not allowed to give much away," he responded, losing the smirk, thank God.

"Just tell me what you're allowed to say, please!" I choked out, averting my gaze from him, feeling strangely vulnerable.

"Very well," he conceded, sighing heavily, and adjusting his collar as though preparing himself for an attack directed by me. "I will tell you this one thing. The person you are looking for has been right in front of your eyes the whole time and yet just outside your peripherals."

"Don't give me a riddle, God damn it," I groaned, pressing my hand to my forehead in frustration. "I'm no good with them, and you know it."

"I can't say it any other way without giving away too much," Nevel pointed out and I only moaned, running a hand through my hair.

"Just great, now I'm going to burn in hell," I mumbled, swallowing hard to reign in tears once more.

"It's not that bad…" Nevel began in what I suspected was a comforting tone.

As he stretched his arm out to brush his hand against my shoulder I flinched away, collapsing on the ground once more as the moisture saturated my eyes, pressurizing to the point of agony.

"You don't get it!" I cried, digging my hands into the earth as though I could claw my soul back into my degenerating body.

My lips trembled so hard I was afraid they'd fall off. "After tonight I'm _gone! _I won't ever get to see my friends _again_! I'll never fall in love, or get m-married, or…" My voice faded away as my hands touched the tombstone marking my grave.

"Sam, sometimes you have to be willing to let go," Nevel sympathized, conflict blurring his normally narcissistic personality.

"I can't let go," I whispered, my sapphire orbs connecting with the gathering storm clouds, tears fighting to stream down my weathered cheeks. For a second I imagined Freddie's face in the skies, the beautiful smile stretching across his face as he wished me goodbye.

But there was something else there in the nub's face, something he was desperately attempting to get me to understand. _He knows, _I realized with a start, not even noticing that an un-Samish smile had spread across my face, echoing Freddie's.

And then he was gone.

_**The person you are looking for has been right in front of your eyes the whole time…**_That could be anyone that I know, anyone that I've ever met. How am I ever supposed to figure out who the hell it was?

All of a sudden I got it, and my eyes lit up, quickly sinking into despair as a choked gasp escaped my throat.

Thinking about Freddork had reminded me about my funeral where he'd given my deceased body – the one about to be lowered into the earth forevermore – the very same intimate smile.

He'd been letting me go then. As I had to let him go now.

The person I'd been looking for really had been in front of my eyes the whole time; I just hadn't realized it until now. There was really only one person who'd been hanging out with Carly since the time just before my death until now, only one person that Carly wouldn't suspect.

I got it, but I almost wish that I hadn't.

If I was correct, then there could only be one possible person left to point out, and she was with Carly right now. My shoulders heaved with every shaky breath I inhaled and exhaled, and I averted my gaze towards the direction I knew where the school was.

If I was correct, then Carly was in terrible danger right now.

The sun split through the clouds for the briefest second, showering the graveyard in a brilliant glow. It shouldn't have really affected me but it did; it managed to infuse me with the power to go through with this investigation.

"Thanks, Nevel," I called out before scrambling to my feet and shooting into the skies for one of my last flights. The morning stars twinkled merrily around me but I couldn't focus on them now.

"I'm the only one who has to die for this," I whispered to myself, tears blinding me as I rocketed towards the school. _I hope I'm not too late._

I would save my friends and let go of them by doing so. I would save them from my murderer.

I would save their lives.

* * *

**SPARKNOTES:**

_**Alright, so that was still pretty long, I admit. I think it was around 10,000 words, or just over that. **_

_**Anyways…I hope you enjoyed this. These take me so long to edit and most time I'll take a week or two to do so per chapter. But it definitely pays off in the end. Or, at least, I think it pays off. You let me know how my writing style is: Really good, good, needs improvement? **_

_**Until then, enjoy!**_

_**-mktoddsparky**_


	11. Part Ten

Remember Me Part 14

**Hope you guys enjoy! I had fun making this one, drama drama drama!**

**And….I have nothing more to say, surprisingly.**

_Sam sat in her bed, leaning against the wall, unable to sleep. The conversation with her sister was attacking her mind again, well, rather, it had never left. She wanted to forgive Melanie, but something in her told her to hold a grudge, to hate the fact that her sister had kissed Freddie. At the thought of Freddie a metallic taste filled her mouth, and Sam realized that she had bitten her tongue, drawing blood. She groaned, running a hand through her dirty blonde hair, and pulled out her phone, texting Freddie, forgetting that it was two in the morning._

_Sam_likes_ham: Hey, Freddork, what's up?_

_Tech_wizard_92: Do you have any freaking idea what time it is?_

_Sam_likes_ham: Watch your mouth, mama's boy. You know I don't own a clock._

_Tech_wizard_92: Ugh, Sam how many times do I have to explain to you that your cell phone has a clock on it, it's not just a timer telling you when it's time to eat ham._

_Sam_likes_ham: I know, I was just teasing you :p_

_Tech_wizard_92: Figures._

_Sam_likes_ham: Hey….Freddie….can I ask you something?_

_Tech_wizard_92: You're going to ask me whether I want you to or not, so shoot._

_Sam pursed her lips and hesitated for a moment, not sure if she should ask him the question that was nagging her conscious. Finally, she typed something in._

_Sam_likes_ham: Did you really kiss my sister?_

_Tech_wizard_92: Yeah, didn't she tell you already?_

_Sam held back the tears that were fighting to spring to her eyes, and replied._

_Sam_likes_ham: Yeah, she told me, I just wanted to hear it from you._

_Tech_wizard_92: Okaaaay….yes, we kissed. _

_Sam_likes_ham: Oh._

_Sam took in a shaky breath, wondering if she should just end the conversation right now before it got any more painful, but she decided against it as she saw his reply._

_Tech_wizard_92: You okay? That reply didn't sound like your normal self._

_Sam_likes_ham: I'm fine. I was just asking. Did you….like it?_

_Tech_wizard_92: Idk._

_Sam_likes_ham: How can you not know if you like a kiss or not?_

_Tech_wizard_92: It's complicated._

_Sam_likes_ham: Try me, Freddlina. _

_Tech_wizard_92: I don't know how to explain it exactly, it's just, I didn't really know you had a twin, so…I…._

_Sam_likes_ham: You thought you were kissing me?_

_Tech_wizard_92: You're gonna break my arm now, right?_

_Sam_likes_ham: …No._

_Tech_wizard_92: It's just complicated because I liked it but I thought I was kissing you and I should really shut up right about now._

_Sam_likes_ham: You're funny when you ramble, for a nerd, anyways._

_Tech_wizard_92: Can't you stop insulting me for two seconds?_

_Sam_likes_ham: No, I live for my fights with you._

_Tech_wizard_92: You do? :)_

_Sam_likes_ham: Ugh, don't take that the wrong way, Benson._

_Tech_wizard_92: Too late, haha._

_Sam_likes_ham: Whatever._

_Tech_wizard_92: Now it's my turn. Can I ask you a question?_

_Sam_like_ham: Fine, go ahead._

_Tech_wizard_92: Who do you like?_

_Sam_likes_ham: It's that just a TAD personal?_

_Tech_wizard_92: Oh….sorry :(_

_Sam_likes_ham: I don't like anybody, ok?_

_Tech_wizard_92: I can see through the lie. Who is he, Sam?_

_Sam_likes_ham: (sighs) It's no big deal, ok? He's just a guy who hates my guts and is in love with my best friend. No biggie. _

_Tech_wizard_92: I'm really sorry, that sucks._

_Sam_likes_ham: Don't feel bad for me, it just makes me feel guilty._

_Tech_wizard_92: Why?_

_Sam_likes_ham: I guess I just don't like relying on anyone. I mean, after my dad….never mind. (sighs)_

_Tech_wizard_92: I'm so sorry about your dad. He doesn't deserve you or your mom. –hug-_

_Sam_likes_ham: -hug- You got that right._

_Tech_wizard_92: Wow, this is the first time you've let me virtual hug you. I….I like it._

_Sam_likes_ham: Yeah, well don't get used to it, dork face. You should go back to sleep. Sorry I took away some of your beauty sleep._

_Tech_wizard_92: It's no problem. I couldn't sleep anyways._

_Sam_likes_ham: Why?_

_She didn't know why she bothered asking, she already knew what today was. It had been one year since she and Freddie had shared their first kiss on the fire escape, the kiss that they swore would never become anything more. She blushed lightly as he replied._

_Tech_wizard_92: You know why._

_Sam_likes_ham: Of course I know, Fredfur. How could I ever forget that night?_

_Tech_wizard_92: I would have thought that you'd have tried to forget as soon as humanly possible._

_Sam_likes_ham: (heavy sigh) You don't know me very well then._

_She sat there on the bed for several more minutes, waiting for his reply, only to sigh in disappointment when he didn't, and the site announced that he had logged off Facebook._

_Her reply sat there on the frozen screen, embedded in both their memories forever. Sam got off the bed, throwing her phone onto the blue-black pillow and pulling her shirt up over her head. She changed into a pair of short shorts and then stood in front of the mirror, dressed only in the black bra and the shorts, her eyes clouding over with tears. "I will never mean anything to you, will I, Freddie?"_

* * *

I flew towards the school, my dark blue converse pounding silently on the concrete sidewalk that panned in front of me for the miles to come. I was so stupid, I told myself bitterly, how could I not see this coming? I closed my eyes for a second, not caring if I went through a pedestrian or not. The most they would feel is a slight chill from my presence. I focused on my breathing, attempting to calm it down, and focus on the single place that I most wanted to be: school. For a second I actually envisioned the wind whipping my hair as I teleported onto the high school campus, and then I opened my eyes, letting out a stream of curses as I realized that I was still running on the sidewalk. "God damn it, why can't I teleport?" I demanded of the air around me, "I can walk through walls, but I can't teleport? This in-between world is seriously screwed up!"

I made myself run faster, for some strange reason finding my lungs starting to ache and my legs beginning to burn. "What the hell is going on?" I yelled into the sky, not expecting anyone to answer. I had to hurry, I had to get to the school, and I had to save my best friend. God, I hope I'm not too late.

"Sam, you have to hurry!" Nevel's voice attacked my ears, and I whipped around, jumping three feet in the air when he materialized right in front of my nose.

"What are you talking about, Nevel?" I shrieked, backpedaling down the sidewalk, needing to keep up the momentum. The air became harder to inhale, as though all the oxygen around me had suddenly turned solid.

"You have to save your friends, because if you don't…." the boy's voice trailed off and he shot me a sympathetic glance, keeping up with my pace easily.

"What? What were you going to say?" I begged for answers, finding myself slowing to a stop, and forcing the apparition named Papperman to swerve to the side.

He rubbed his nose, healing the bruise from colliding with the brick wall instantly, and glaring at me. "If you don't save them in time….then you will die forever."

I froze where I stood, my mouth agape, unable to think for a moment. "Die forever?" I whispered more to myself than anything. "But I thought I was already dead!"

Nevel looked down at the ground, averting my gaze, "You remember the talk we had in the graveyard?"

I nodded, "Yeah, sure."

"How much do you remember from that conversation, Sam?" Papperman finally lifted his eyes to meet my utterly confused gaze.

I shrugged, trying to force down my panic, "Something about me being in an in between stage…."

"Exactly!" Nevel exclaimed, "You're in an in between stage, but there was one minor detail I forgot to mention. If you don't save Carly and Freddie in time then you will be flung into hell where you will live for the rest of eternity."

"And that is a minor detail, how?" I almost shouted, pure shock sending adrenaline rushing through my veins, "How much time do I have?"

"Not much," he whispered, shoving his hands into his pockets, "I'm sorry, Sam."

I shook my head, refusing to let my emotions take over. I could still fix this, I still had time. But what if I didn't get to Carly and Freddie in time? What if my murderer disposed of them before I could get to the scene of the incident? Failure loomed in front of my eyes, and I bottled up a scream of frustration as I took off running towards the school again, Nevel's words ringing in my ears.

"You don't have much time, Sam!"

* * *

I flew right through Ridgeway's double doors, my eyes snaking around the semi-crowded halls of the school I used to attend. As Gibby passed right next to me, chewing on a caramel apple, I realized that it must be lunch time, and the clock saying 12:20 on the wall proved my point. I slid right through the dweeb of a kid, wincing at the weird sensation, "Ugh," and took off for the cafeteria. Gibby looked around him, puzzled by the sudden chilling sensation, and patted his stomach, mumbling "Must be the caramel apple. Oh well."

I turned the hall, slamming on the brakes to keep from running into the principal, not like I actually could run into them. The main thing that made me stop was that Principal Franklin was talking to Freddie, who's eyes were still slightly puffy. I could detect a hesitancy in his voice as he conversed with the adult in front of him.

"Is something wrong?" Freddie asked quietly, looking up at his principal slowly, as though fearing a punishment.

"I…." he began, "I wanted to find out how you were dealing. I understand that Sam died last week…." He bit his lip, trying to control his own emotions, knowing that he had to keep it together for the students. But he couldn't help but miss Sam Puckett; that girl had always made school bearable from his position. She was always one student that he could count on seeing each day in the principals office, getting in trouble for one deed or another. I felt a warmth flood through me as I realized that Principal Franklin really did care about me; he didn't think I was just a nuisance like Ms. Briggs thoughts. But that wasn't really surprising, considering that I'd ducked taped her to a chair and hid her in the closet for the whole school day. That one had earned me a whole month of detention but it had been worth it.

Freddie knotted his hands together in an attempt to hold back the tears just waiting to fall. When he spoke his voice cracked, "I'm dealing, sir." I couldn't help but stroke the dork's cheek once, trying to calm him down. 'I'm right here,' I thought softly, 'I'm right here watching over you….wow that sounded so clique.'

Principal Franklin put his hand on Freddie's shoulder, and gave him a sympathetic smile, "She will be missed dearly. Do you think you'll still be doing iCarly?" Why the hell was he asking about iCarly? I had just died, for God's sake!

Freddie shrugged and took in a shaky breath, his eyes filled to the brim with tears that he wouldn't let fall, "Carly and I still have to talk about it. But, I mean, I don't think it would be the same without….her." I looked away for a moment, seeing how much pain it caused him to say my name. My heart started to ache before I could stop it, and all I wanted to do was wrap him in my arms and hold him.

"I suppose," the principal smiled grimly and pulled his hand away, "Would you like me to write you a late pass, Freddie? I'm afraid I've made you late to your next class."

Freddie simply nodded and followed the principal towards his office, his head hanging low in dejection. I watched him go, swallowing back the pain that was ready to burst. 'Why did I come here again?' I asked myself, and then it clicked. _Carly! _

I ran down the hallway, keeping my ears pricked for the slightest sound, although I doubt I'll find them. If lunch is already over then they should have headed to their next class, so I'll just have to wait. But what if Carly is harmed during class? I won't be able to protect her, not like I can do much even now. I suddenly heard the two familiar voices and my heart felt like lead as I rushed towards them. The two girls were standing in front of their adjacent lockers, whispering in hushed tones.

"I told you I don't want to do this anymore!" Carly hissed, wrapping her arms around herself, seeming on edge.

Missy smiled sinisterly at her supposed friend and my hands balled into fists. I wanted to pummel this girl into the hard, cold ground. "Carly, you innocent little girl, you really have no idea what this is about, do you?"

Carly shuddered at the expression in Missy's eyes, "Enlighten me then!"

Missy's eyes narrowed and it seemed in that moment that her pupil's were ringed in blue fire. "Sam was everything that I wanted to be! She had you as her best friend, and she had Freddie as the guy who was in love with her! I had no choice but to change that!" My eyes widened as she mentioned that Freddie was in love with me, and I closed my gaping mouth. Nobody else had heard Freddork blurt out those three words in his room that fateful afternoon.

"You did all of this because you were jealous?" Carly snapped, infuriated. "You freaking murdered my best friend!"

Missy rolled her eyes, "Stop being so melodramatic. It's more than just jealousy, Carls. This beast of a girl destroyed me! She drove me to the brink of insanity! I was just thirteen when I walked home alone that one night! I didn't deserve it, I didn't deserve to have my first time in an alley because I was forced to! It was her cousin, and I know she put him up to it! So I destroyed her, and she deserved it!" I began to shake as I saw the demonic red glint in her eyes. This girl was insane.

"I….I'm sorry," Carly mumbled honestly.

"It's a little late for apologies, don't you think?" Missy screeched, and then suddenly she got a sickly sweet smile on her conniving face, a smile that I instantly distrusted, "Oh Carly, you've been such a big help to me. You knew this was the right thing to do, getting rid of Sam. She was just a big waste of space…."

"Sam was my best friend, not a waste of space," Carly insisted firmly and my eyes widened as Missy pulled a thin knife from her bag, holding it behind her back. I screamed, beating on the air around the two, trying to get my best friend to listen to me, but I could do nothing.

"You've done so well," Missy continued in the sickly sweet voice, stepping closer to Carly, "And as I promised, I won't ask you for any more help. Just…come here for a second," she grinned wickedly as the brunette paced even closer. "I can't have anyone exposing my secret," the insane one whispered, raising the knife slowly. Carly stood there, completely oblivious to the fact that her life was in danger, "What are you talking about?"

Missy cocked her head to the side, as if surveying her prey and then she murmured in a sing-song voice, "Goodbye Carly Shay." Before I could say anything, she drove the knife right into Carly's side.

My vision flickered, and I fell to my knees with a scream of agony as my best friend sank to the floor, the blood pouring from the wound. Missy pulled out the now-bloody knife, and smirked at the brunette on the ground before walking off, satisfied with her day's work. Everything was going according to plan.

Screaming once again in unendurable agony and crawled across the linoleum floor towards my best friend, hoping that I wasn't too late. I should have done something, I could have done something. Why did I just sit there? What the hell is wrong with me? I looked down at Carly as she pressed a hand to the gaping wound in her side, gasping for air, and I knew that she didn't have much time left. There wasn't enough time to get her to a hospital; I had to do something.

I knew that there was a crowd of students building up around us, but I couldn't focus on them right now. All my senses were focused on the brunette lying on the floor in front of me, breathing her last breathes as I spoke. I didn't know what to do, I was dead, and I couldn't help. And suddenly, I got a stroke of inspiration. I didn't know if it would work but there was no harm trying.

I pressed my hands right on the wound, glad that I couldn't feel the blood on my fingers. Normally I'm not squeamish at the sight of blood, but this was my best friend we're talking about here. I'm bound to be a little more sensitive. Closing my eyes, I focused on the single thought: _Please heal my best friend! Don't let her die; don't take her away from everyone here. They need her. _Even through closed eyes I could see and feel the blinding gold light emitting from my fingertips, washing over Carly's wound, and the grin spread over my face as I saw the blood stop pouring. A moment later the light died down, leaving behind a thin cut. The people around the brunette let out shocked exclamations, unable to believe what had just occurred.

I got to my feet, letting out a relieved breath as I saw Carly's chest rising up and down in a steady rhythm, and I knew that she would make it to the hospital. I had done everything in my power, and yet there was still a sense of unease in my heart. I looked around me, trying to figure out what was wrong, and then, I knew.

_Freddie wasn't here. _

I shot for the doors just as they burst open and the paramedics came flooding in, rushing right for Carly. I paused for the briefest moment to look at the scene. My best friend was lifted gently onto the stretcher, and a breathing mask was placed over her pale face. The kids in the hallway were holding onto each other, both sexes crying their eyes out in confusion. They hadn't seen what I had seen; they hadn't seen Missy plunge the knife into Carly's side. They hadn't seen anything; they hadn't experienced the horror of not being able to do anything.

Everything seemed to be moving in slow motion as I headed for the double doors leading out of the school. The world outside seemed cold and grey, and I realized a moment later that it was raining, the drops hitting the ground, splashing every which way, leaving a damp feeling about the place. I could see Carly being loaded into the ambulance, covered by a tarp to keep from getting wet, and normally I would have smiled at this. I would have smiled to see that my best friend was alive and that they were going to save her. But I couldn't smile, not now, not while my other best friend was in terrible danger.

I took off running again, noticing with alarm that the rain was actually hitting my once invisible skin, running down my cheeks, and hitting my clothes, literally soaking me. It was all happening too fast; I wasn't ready for any of it. I lifted my gaze to the heavens, and closed my eyes for a moment, letting the tears escape my eyes for the briefest second before reining them back in. I didn't want to be dead; I had never asked for this, had never asked to have my friend's lives be in danger.

But I couldn't change anything now; all I could do was save Freddie, because if I didn't, then I would be sent to hell for all of eternity. I shivered in the cold, and took off running again, the single picture in my mind of the three of us hugging in the iCarly studio. Carly's eyes were bright with joy, and Freddie was staring longingly at her, and I was there grinning mischievously. It had been hard back then, watching the dork love my best friend, but at least I had been alive and everything had been normal. What I wouldn't do to have it be that way again.

* * *

**Missy's POV: **

I sauntered slowly down the forgotten alleyway, my cell phone in hand, ready to call my henchman. Everything was going perfectly, now all that was left was to dispose of that Freddie boy. At first I had wanted to date him, but after seeing that he was so caught up in that stupid Puckett girl I had no choice but to finish him off. Anything that had anything to do with Sam had to go.

As I walked in the rain, the memories of how long I had planned for this day came to the front of my mind and I embraced them eagerly, embracing how much of a genius I had been and still was. Nobody could stop me now.

"_**You know what to do," I hissed into the phone as I huddled outside the Shay's apartment, "She just left your apartment. Are you in the position that I assigned you?"**_

_**Carly's trembling voice carried softly through the line, "I'm here, but I don't want to do this. She's my best friend, Missy, I can't murder her!"**_

_**I sighed in exasperation, "How many times do we have to go over this, Shay? Either you finish off the blonde demon, or I have my henchman kill you and Spencer and your parents and Freddie. It's your choice." I clutched the phone tighter, smirking to myself, knowing that I had won. I always did. **_

"_**Fine," Carly shuddered, and I started walking towards the destination where Puckett would be murdered. I was in the mood for some blood and gore. Tonight was the night when I would finally get revenge, when I would finally avenge everything Sam had stolen from me. She deserved this, she always had, and Carly knew that, she was just hesitant about it. **_

_**I ended the call and made my way towards the street where Carly would stab her best friend, a smile curling up the edges of my lips. This should be entertaining to watch. I crouched down in my dark black Volvo and waited. A moment later I saw Sam walking down the street, her head downcast, as though there was something of major interest on the ground. "You have nothing to live for anymore, I'm just doing you a favor," I muttered to myself, sinking even lower into the seat.**_

_**Sam raised her face towards the sky and I saw Carly creep towards her, knife in hand. I slid out of the car, needing to get closer, needing to see the blonde demon's face of agony when her life was stolen away from her. Carly raised back the blade, and then suddenly she lowered it, and I felt my smirk evaporate. I stormed silently over to the brunette, giving her a deathly look, and then, before she could say anything I grabbed the blade and thrust it into Sam's back, right in the right spot. Carly's eyes widened and I reached for her, dragging her behind the car, and watching with a grin as the blood poured out of Sam and onto the sidewalk. Her moans of pain were like music to my ears, and when she was finally still I made my way over to her lifeless body, kissing her pale cold cheek, "Revenge is mine, Samantha Puckett. It always was." **_

I shook my head, forcing myself out of my precious memories, knowing that I needed to savor them for the nights when I didn't feel like murdering someone. Besides, right now I needed to concentrate. I had a nerd to kill.

* * *

I continued to rush down the street in the pouring rain, my once invincible skin getting pelted by the clear drops of liquid, hearing the slaps as the pellets drove right into my face, momentarily blinding me. I prayed for the briefest second that I wouldn't fall right off the road and be run over by a car; it would be just my luck to accomplish that, I'm telling you that right now. The faint image of the ambulance sirens caught my eyes as the medical vehicle carrying my best friend flashed right by me, spraying the muddy water from the gutter into my eyes, and making them burn. I flailed around like an idiot for a minute, my nail-free fingers clawing at my eyes, howling in pain, before beginning to run again, knowing that I needed to get to Bushwell Plaza. This wasn't over yet.

A long ago memory of the three of us popped into my mind as I ran as fast as I dared in this miserable storm; Carly and I were sitting on her couch, and she was flashing me a disappointed and furious look. I chuckled to myself as I remembered how confused I'd been, and God only knows that I hadn't seen what was coming next. She'd pursed her pale pink lips, jutting them out in a half pleading expression, and stated, "I thought we told each other everything, no secrets, right?" "Yeah, why? Did you do something bad?" I'd inquired, my face lighting up, "Did Carly Shay finally do something bad? Holy crap, I'm so proud of you!" I'd gripped her shoulders, and had been just about ready to pull her into a hug, ecstatic that my best friend was slowly becoming more and more corrupted.

"No," she'd shook her head and glared at me, standing up and wringing her hands together as though she couldn't take the pressure of it all anymore. Finally she'd fixed her burning gaze on mine, and the hurt question had blurted out of her mouth, "Why didn't you tell me that you and Freddie kissed?" Pure shock and disbelief had emerged on my face, and I had been utterly speechless for the second time in my life. The first time had been just after Freddwardo's lips had left mine, and I had sat there acting like a total blonde bimbo.

Just the thought of that night between the tech nerd and I made my lips curve downwards and the old dissatisfied smirk reappear, masked by the supposed happiness. But it was always masked; they could never see me like this, all harried and stupid. I'm supposed to be the strong one, I can't just fall to pieces in front of them. Who knows what the hell Fredlina would think? I mean, sure I've cried in front of Carly before, and Freddie just about saw me when I did so, and I'd been forced to scream bloody murder at him to get him to screech his own lungs out and flee the premise.

But God, I missed the dork more than anything right now, and my heart felt like it was about to burst from all the worry. He was probably being cornered by the beast herself; she could be holding a knife to his neck…I shivered at the thought. It was one thing for her to murder me, but when she tried to hurt and kill my friends, well that was just unacceptable. I was going to be doing some major ass whooping if I could ever get these ghostly hands around her scrawny little neck. My hands curled into intimidating fists just thinking about it.

As I spotted Bushwell Plaza just around the block my eyes began to glow with hope and anticipation that maybe, just maybe, I wasn't too late to save him. And then, my hope was eliminating like someone blowing out a flaming candle, as the cloaked figure disappeared around the side of the building, a shining sharp object gripped in their right hand, coating in a familiar person's blood. My eyes narrowed, and I gritted my teeth, forcing my legs to move faster; I had to catch up to the little she-devil and stop her before she killed Freddie.

Before I knew it I was rushing into the all too familiar lobby, silent for once, save for the strangely comforting mutterings of Lewbert behind the desk, clipping the hairs on his huge disgusting wart. For just once I wished that he would do his little screaming act and tell me to stop walking at a normal pace in his lobby, but I knew that it wouldn't do any good to hope for something like that. I had to just accept my death and try to save my friends before _she _disposed of them.

All of a sudden there was a weird chilling sensation, a feeling that gripped me by my stomach and flipped me around, making me momentarily gasp for air and clutch at my sides. And then, the merciless voice of the girl in my nightmares murmured, "Why hello, Sam," and I looked up to meet the frozen cold green eyes of none other than my murderer, Missy Robinson. "What the hell do you – wait," I cut off, my eyes darting this way and that, only to have my eyebrows raise as I realized that nothing was moving save for us two. "How can you see me; I'm dead!"

"Oh Samantha," the temptress cooed in a sickly sweet tone, her deadly jade eyes boring into my shocked oceanic ones, "There's so much that you have left to learn, and so much that I can teach you."

"Don't play mind games with me," I snapped harshly, crossing my arms in a defiant posture and keeping my gaze locked onto hers.

"What mind games," she asked in a mock innocent tone, stepping closer to me, letting the sinister grin creep onto her pale face, and resembling the Bride of Frankenstein for a moment. "I'm simply trying to make you an irresistible offer, so hear me out." She paused for a minute, taunting my emotions before continuing in the same false sweetness. "Join me, and I can make you into the terror of the world. You can move things around, and knock things over, and hurt people, and even murder them! Imagine the possibilities, Sam, imagine what you could accomplish!"

I swallowed hard, trying to think of a lie, and finally one came to me. I always had been good at this sort of thing. "It's too bad I'm a ghost and I can't touch or talk to people," I replied wryly, secretly hoping that she would believe me.

She tossed back her flaming red hair and scoffed, "Oh please, I know what you can do, there's no reason to lie." She stroked the blood stained blade of her knife zealously, and whispered in a soft tone, "I know that you can make yourself touch things, and that you can communicate at some times with people. Carly told me about the one time you scared Spencer while he was sleeping." She laughed hoarsely and then waved the knife in my direction as I lunged for her, snarling, "Don't even talk about them!"

"You should think twice before rejecting my offer," she hissed suddenly, the demonic rage reentering her eyes, "It just might affect your precious Freddie; you know, it really is a shame that I'm going to kill him, he was always a nice boy, even when he loved Carly for all that time." She included that painful part into her taunts, seeing the apparent pain in my dull blue eyes as I flinched.

"Why do you want to kill them?" I asked in a whisper, meeting her insane gaze. "Wasn't murdering me enough? It's not like I killed you! Don't punish everyone that I love because of something that happened to you." I pointed my finger right at her as she opened her mouth to object, "I'm not done! Look, I'm sorry that you were raped in an alley; I feel really bad about it, but what does that have to do with me?"

"It has everything to do with you," she screeched furiously. "You were related to the man that did it, you set it up, I know you did! You always hated me, and you have so many juvenile delinquents in your family, so it wouldn't be a problem!"

My mouth had flattened into a thin line by this point, "I had nothing to do with you being raped, I swear! I would NEVER stoop that low, do you hear me, I'm not that despicable, unlike you. And so yeah, I hated you, because you tried to steal my best friend, but I couldn't do something like this. Please, you've already punished me enough, don't kill Freddie and Carly and Spencer or anyone else!"

"It's too late to apologize, Samantha," she whispered, the uncontrollable rage still clear in her eyes, "You're going to pay for what you're denying you did, no matter how much you plead!" Without another word she began to ascend the stairs, the dark cloak flapping around her ankles, and the blade ready in her hands. I nearly fell to the ground as the world began moving again, and our insane doorman started groaning about invisible people in the lobby. If only he knew how close he was to the truth.

I closed my eyes, attempting to steady my breath, trying to think of a way to prevent this from happening, but my mind kept blanking. I had to find some way to warn Freddie, but there was no way that I would get up there in time. 'God, please,' I prayed, the tears filling my tortured eyes, 'I have to get up there to save an innocent life. Please don't let him die!' As the tears began to roll down my cheeks I was suddenly enveloped in the same golden light that I'd experienced when healing Carly, traveling up the length of my body. In one moment everything began to spin around me, making my stomach start whirling for the third time in the past several minutes, and then in the next, I was falling, falling into a dark abyss, with no way of escape, and I was going to die…and then I could see the light at the end, but I had no idea where the light would go. It could lead me to Heaven, away from all of this, leaving Freddie all alone to perish at Missy's fatal dagger, leaving Carly to come home and find Spencer unconscious on the floor, near to death, leaving everyone to deal with all of their own problems. But I didn't want to go, my time couldn't be up yet. "Nevel!" I screamed into the darkness, the tears beginning to stream down my cheeks, "Please tell me that I'm not too late!"

"I'm sorry, Sam," Nevel whispered from somewhere that I couldn't see. His voice seemed to be all around me, surrounding me with a sort of shield, "You're too late to save them. Your time is up!"

"NO!" I screamed again, the tears streaking frantically down my cheeks, "God, please don't do this to me! I have to be there to save him." My eyes squeezed shut as the light drew near, and all of a sudden my mind cleared and everything made sense. Through the blur of tears and pain, I whispered, "I love him, God. Please, I can't just let him die."

And all of a sudden, everything faded to white.

**SPARKNOTES:**

**__****Yes, I know this all looks like total crap right now but I have yet to edit it. Once I do the story will flow much more naturally and you might enjoy it a little. So, until then, bear with the major construction, because once it's done this story will shine! Well, maybe not, but it will end up pretty good. **

**_One more thing: If you ever have any questions or comments about this story, please don't hesitate to shoot me a private message and I will either answer your inquiry or fix the disputed section of my writing. Thanks!_**


	12. Part Eleven

**Remember Me – Part Seventeen**

**Hola, everyone! Here's the next part, and it's getting pretty intense! Enjoy, review, etc….you know the drill. **

The white light was everywhere; I was touching it and it was slowly seeping through my body, to the very core of my being, sending chills of a different kind through me. They weren't the chills that Missy had given me when she'd pointed the blood encrusted knife at my chest; they weren't cold at all, they were just unsettling. In fact, they were almost peaceful, draining out any unpleasant thought that I had.

My mind floated unconsciously towards the scene that I had just escaped from, and although I tried to feel terror over the fact that Carly was in the hospital and that Spencer was losing blood on the floor of his apartment, and that Freddie….suddenly a different feeling rushed through my heart. My eyes widened slowly and the image materialized in my mind, except it wasn't a dream. In a sort of mist I could see the dark figure ascending the stairs, the blade clutched tightly in her dominant hand, a murderous expression across my face; and there was Freddie, moving around in his room, trying to block out the sounds of his mom telling him that she was leaving for the store.

It was all coming back now, the pain and agony of the situation was pushing against the white mist, pulling me back to the emotion-filled reality of life, back to the place where I wanted to be, my home, at Bushwell Plaza. My eyes snapped onto the brunette boy as he fell onto his bed, and his hand reached for a picture of the two of us around Christmas time. I'd stayed over at his house, stealing his presents and drinking all the hot cocoa all because my mom was dating a surgeon who wanted to operate on me.

There was a roaring sensation in my ears, it was growing louder and louder, and my whole body was vibrating and turning a vivid white, and I squeezed my eyes tightly shut to try and block it out, but there was no stopping it. The vibrations sent my eardrums pounding and I winced, pressing my hands hastily to my temples and shrinking further into a ball, wishing that it would already be all over. Who knew that coming back would be this painful?

The white was blinding now, it was my existence, it was where I had come from and now where I was supposed to return to, but I couldn't, I knew that I had to get back, and so I was fighting, fighting so desperately. "I WON'T GO BACK!" I screamed into the abyss, and all of a sudden there was a screaming sound so piercing that I groaned, feeling like my eardrums were about to burst. The wind was whipping around me, and there was no peace anymore, the white light was fading, and I felt as if I was again falling into nothing. And then, with a snap, the white light vanished and my legs slammed into what felt like a carpet, and the stars exploded behind my veined lids.

I just lay there trembling for a moment, trying to gain my bearings, alarmed by the fact that I couldn't hear anything. Forcing my eyes to flutter open I looked around me at the familiar bed and dresser and slightly dusty mirror. The yellow stains had been scrubbed out of the carpet and everything was nice and tidy like it used to be before I died, and the corners of my mouth tugged up. But a second later, my slight smile vanished as I saw Freddie emerge from the bathroom, letting the white-washed door swing shut behind him. He looked around, the dull look still clearly visible in the once animated brown eyes, and the prick of guilt seared my heart again. Although I had gotten better at it, the guilt seemed worse than ever giving the fact that Freddork's life could possibly end in a few moments.

I froze unconsciously as I heard the faint sound of the front door being tried, and my sixth sense told me that it wasn't Freddie's mom coming back for something that she forgot. 'You don't have much time,' my mind shrieked and I rolled my eyes at my conscience, chuckling momentarily as I realized that I was making fun of myself, before my mouth sloped downwards once more in panic as the doorknob rattled again, harder this time, as though the person on the other end was getting impatient.

"Uh, do you want me to kick it open, boss?" A gravely male voice asked in an emotionless tone, as though he really didn't care where the hell he was, as long as he got to throttle someone, and I shivered at the mental image, knowing that it was the masked man that I had saw harassing Carly at my funeral. This really hadn't been her fault, I realized with a sigh, she had simply been played like a poker card.

"No, no Keith," the female voice simpered and my teeth instinctively clenched, "I want to have some fun with Sam and Freddie, scare them for awhile. By the way, change your name, idiot, Keith isn't a frightening name."

I turned back towards Freddie, who was just sitting on his bed, gazing at something on his laptop, and I knew that he was watching another old iCarly video. Making my way hurriedly over to him I attempted to reach out and grasp him by the shoulders, maybe shake some sense into the boy and get him to run, but my fingertips just went right through him, making me shudder. 'What the hell am I supposed to do?' My mind began to panic and I attempted to fight off the panic attack, knowing that it wouldn't do any good. My eyes snaked around the medium sized room, looking for something, anything that would help me, but I wasn't finding anything.

And then suddenly, I found just what I needed. Rushing across the room, my fingers grazed across the clear surface of his desktop mirror, and for the slightest moment I closed my eyes, hearing the harsh rattle of the doorknob and knowing that I didn't have much time. I began to focus on my fingers making contact with the glass, praying fervently as the tears budded in my eyes, and a moment later I felt the familiar golden light envelop me, flooding me with warmth, just as the henchman's foot came in contact with the door, splintering it slightly. Freddie shot up from the bed, looking around him worriedly, trying to figure out just where the noise was coming from, just as my pointer finger of my right hand began to trace the letters on the mirror.

Freddie whirled around, unable to see the golden blaze that was surrounding me, but the letters on the mirror in front of him spoke clearly enough. He turned a deathly pale color as my semi-invisible finger traced out the remaining letters, and I met his eyes with a confident gaze, knowing that he had seen something writing the words. He strode over to the mirror, shaking from head to toe, a glimmer of shock rippling through his warm brown iris' as he read the slanted words.

_**Freddie,**_

_**You have to run, get out as fast as you can. Missy hurt Carly and Spencer and she wants to kill you. This is the only help I can lend you right now. I am so sorry.**_

_**-Sam**_

Freddie's eyes whirled around the room as his lips mouthed the letters, and then they froze right on the spot where I was standing, staring at him with the tears rolling down my cheeks. My eyes widened as he moved towards me as if in a trance, his arm extended slightly, his face lit eerily in the sunset glow. I hadn't realized just how much time had passed since the white abyss had swallowed me whole. I began to tremble violently as his hand cupped my cheek, coaxing a dark red blush to spread across my cheeks; this shouldn't be happening, how the hell could he see me? As the tears rushed to his eyes he whispered in disbelief, "Sam?"

For a moment I couldn't say anything, couldn't move a single muscle in my body. All I could do was stare right back at the boy who I had taunted ever since we were little, and wonder if he really could see me. The sounds of the henchman kicking at the door bled away, leaving just Freddie and I in our own little world, and finally my lips unfroze and I whispered in the same tone, "Y-you can see me?"

As he nodded the tears broke free; I was unable to hold them back any longer. All the trauma of the past few days was catching up to me, and I just wanted to fall into his arms and let him hold me. But I knew that it wasn't possible right now; we were already wasting valuable time that he could be fleeing from Missy's wrath. "You have to get out of here now!" I pleaded with him in a tremulous tone, my hands shaking as they wove around his neck instinctively, pulling him closer to me, and savoring the warmth that I hadn't felt since the last night of my life. "Missy wants to kill you, Freddie, please, please get out of here, I can't watch you die…" Fresh tears streamed down my pale face as I whispered in a tortured tone, begging him to leave.

"H-how can you be talking to me like this," he inquired in a soft tone, as a lone tear rolled oh so slowly down his left cheek, hitting the carpet below with an inaudible splash. "I thought you were dead, I was at your funeral…" He shook his head, unable to believe what he was really seeing.

"I am dead, please Freddie, you have to…" I broke off with a gasp as I heard the door break down. I was too late. As the last rays of the sun disappeared behind the cliff faces I memorized the dork's face, tracing the dark bags under his eyes and placing tender kisses along his jawbone, not really caring if he knew my feelings now or not. There was a highly likely chance that he wouldn't survive this, and if he didn't then I would be flung to Hell, never to see him or Carly ever again.

The shadows stole over the bedroom and the light suspended on the ceiling flickered slightly, flashing odd images across the walls, painting a disturbing and yet probably accurate picture of what was about to come. Another flicker, and Freddie's eyes glazed over. He began to panic, looking around him for something or someone, hissing in disbelief, "Sam, where the hell are you? SAM!"

"Freddie, I'm right here," I cried, the tears streaming relentlessly down my face, and I knew that my time was just about up. I wouldn't be able to contact him again, I could only hope to sacrifice my second chance to save him forever. And then, just as my petrified yet calm oceanic eyes met his scared dark brown one's, everything went black, and a sinister laugh resounded throughout the apartment.

I could clearly feel my vascular lobes opening and closing rapidly, causing my heart to thud faster and faster and allowing the increasing flow of blood to continue undisturbed. The dull flush began to creep up the sides of my pale face as panic stole over me and I fought to stop from flailing around meaninglessly. My oceanic orbs connected with the tall figure of Fredward Benson beside me and my now invisible fingers slid right through the skin of his arm, brushing past the bone and tender muscle hidden within. I shuddered involuntarily, still not used to the feeling of sinking through a living body and wished that I could talk to him, get him to thrust through the thin glass windowpane or something, some way to escape the horror that was coming.

Freddie's pupils engorged, seeking for the thin tendrils of light that could possibly remain in the now pitch dark apartment, and his fingers stretched out; maybe he could find the doorknob. At once my own eyes widened, and I shrieked, "Not the door!" Too bad he couldn't hear me; if he managed to get out of his room then he would be walking straight into Missy's trap and would be dead within minutes. My frame shuddered as my thoughts drifted to the blood encrusted knife that the red haired demon carried in her grasp.

I chuckled for a moment and then scolded myself for being so blasé about the current situation, but hey, I'm dead, I'm allowed to remember things about the days when I was free and alive. I pictured perfectly Spencer's apartment in my mind, the many days I'd spent the night there, the days I'd plopped down on the couch, cradling a whole ham. Freddie had called me a blond-haired demon, primarily after I'd beat him up; I used to have a lot of fun with the kid before he hit puberty, taunting him about his squeaky little voice and striped (ugh, I hate stripes, that will never change, duh) shirts that his psychotic mommy made him wear.

After the dork had hit puberty, however, everything changed, although I still tried my old tricks. My voice got lower, and he started adorning his fit body with semi stylish clothes, although he wouldn't ever be the type of guy to go around flashing skulls on his tops. Somehow, I hadn't really minded that; I once dated this guy Jonah who ended up breaking my heart when he tried to kiss Carly, but that's not important anymore. I just remember the money necklaces he slung about his neck and the skull and crossbones tattoo he'd gotten last year. The boy had turned out to be a total jerk and I didn't want my tech nerd to end up the same way. 'Ugh, did I really just think _my tech nerd?' _I groaned to myself.

It really did no good denying how I felt about the boy any more, although I believe that I will always continue to doubt myself on it, mainly because it isn't important anymore. I'm dead and nothing is ever going to alter that, and Freddork is going to find some other girl to love and they'll have a big wedding and he'll be happy, and I'll be forgotten. Why did I have to be so stupid and kiss him out on the fire escape? If I hadn't I probably wouldn't be dealing with these feelings right now; heck, I would be dreaming of ham and Peppy Cola.

I laughed quietly to myself as Freddie bashed his hand into the wall and then my chuckles cut short as I heard another laugh, a far more sinister one than I ever accomplished. "Missy," I whispered, almost a hiss, turning to face Freddie, watching as all the color drained from his angelic face. He'd heard her and he was scared. Suddenly there was the earlier chilling sensation that I'd experienced in the lobby, but this time I knew that Missy was freezing time, and sure enough, everything paused in motion. The clock on the wall silenced, its hands pointed to six twenty two.

"Alright, cut the crap," I grumbled, setting my hands firmly on my hips, knowing that this could possibly be my last stand to save Freddie, "Where the hell are you, Missy? I can hear you!" And I could, easily, track the sound of her stiletto heels clicking ominously on the carpeted floor and hear the streaks of carbon dioxide leave her plump red lips to be replaced by fresh oxygen.

"Now, now," the red headed teenage girl cooed sickeningly as she peeled off the beige painted wall, the darkness overpowering the once clear green eyed vision within, "Is that any way to treat the person who can kill the man you love?"

I paced closer, brushing back my unruly blonde locks and glaring at the girl in front of me, "Don't play that card, Missy. I can still beat the crap out of you any time I want to. Care to experience it firsthand?" I threatened, my eyes narrowing to royal blue strips as I pulled my fist back, only to double over as something struck me in the stomach, sending me flying across the room. Coughing up a couple drops of blood I gazed up through pain hazed orbs to see Missy's bodyguard, the man that had hurt Carly, clutching a bow-staff in his beefy fingers, leering down at my shrunken stature.

"I don't think that's an option, Samantha," Missy crowed evilly, smirking at my obvious pain. Leaning closer she spat right in my face and whispered in a low tone, "You're helpless. Carly's in the hospital dying and Freddie," she paused to laugh under her breath, "Well he doesn't have much time left."

"So help me," I growled, rising to my feet, only to feel a stinging pain across my back, knocking the air flat out of lungs and leaving me gasping for breath. Missy's henchman brought the rod down one more time and the stars exploded in my vision as a gasp was ripped across the skin of my back. Her earlier words rang in my ears, frightening me more and more each time with their sinister truth:

"_You are helpless…"_

* * *

Carly's eyelids fluttered open and she gazed about her in bemusement at her unfamiliar surroundings. She didn't remember this garden at all with all the flowers she couldn't name and the waterfall off to the side, streams of water drifting serenely through the air, bringing nourishment to the nature around it. She hadn't remembered stepping into this intricately designed arbor, peering through a break in the woodwork, watching the sunrise spill golden light over the now completely visible valley. For a moment she laughed as a doe bounded across the freshly mown grass, pausing to nibble at a tidbit of the green delight, and then confusion filled her once more.

"Hello Carly," the soft voice murmured gently and an all too familiar woman waltzed gently into the field by the arbor, her piercing green orbs capturing Carly's interest. A smile stretched the lines on her worn face, making her seem both younger and older at the same time, and, brushing back a lock of her dark brown hair, she stopped moving.

Carly's eyes filled with tears and her lips parted slightly, giving her a pensive expression, but it was if she'd turned to stone. She was so in shock about this woman being here; she thought that she wouldn't ever see her again, at least that's what her father said. Finally, a shuddering gasp escaped her mouth and she whispered in disbelief, "Mom?"

The woman nodded and her smile inched up the corners of her mouth as she spread her arms, inviting her daughter in, "I've missed you so much, honey."

Carly let out a choked sob and as the tears began rolling rapidly down her shrunken cheeks she rushed into her mother's arms, burying her head into the material of her mom's shirt, sobbing her eyes out, "But you're dead, you can't be here!"

Mrs. Shay nodded slightly, kissing her daughter's forehead, rocking the two of them back and forth of them, "You're so close, sweetheart."

At first Carly couldn't comprehend the meaning of her mother's words; all she could manage to think about was the fact that her mother was supposed to be dead. She'd been in a fatal car accident when Carly was just six and passed before the paramedics could get there. She could faintly remember a doctor offering condolences to a teary-eyed Spencer, explaining that it hadn't been their mother's fault, that the other driver was drunk while behind the wheel. Carly remembered how distraught she'd been when Spencer had come home and embraced her without a word, crying into her shoulder, until she broke down in tears herself.

And so, it was an impossibility that her mother would be standing right here in front of her, that is, until the impact of her words hit her. Pulling away, she wiped furiously at the half-dry tear tracks on her pale face and mumbled, "What do you mean by I'm so close?"

Her mother pressed a manicured finger to her daughter's lips before nodding towards the other side of the meadow, "You see that bridge over there?"

When Carly nodded, confused, her mother continued in a soft tone, "That bridge leads to eternal happiness, hunny. All you have to do is cross it and you can be with me forever!" There was a certain joy in her mother's voice that sent chills up Carly's spine, and for a moment she didn't speak, letting the sounds of the orioles chirping drown out their thoughts.

But the thoughts came anyways, zooming into the teenage girl's mind like hornets on steroids and a picture of her, Sam and Freddie blossomed before her eyes, sending the few unshed tears streaming down her cheeks; nothing would ever be the same now that her ham loving best friend was gone, but was it really time to just give up and go beyond the bridge with her mother? "Where does the bridge go?" She questioned.

"To heaven," her mother replied joyfully, slinging a carefree arm around her daughter's shoulders.

"But…" Carly pulled out of her mother's embrace, slightly angered by her mom's nonchalance over the matter, "What about Spencer and Freddie? They need me!" And it was truer than she would ever realize; without Sam in their lives her remaining family and friends were hollows shells of their former selves. If Carly left then all chaos would occur, if only the brunette girl could see this, but she couldn't, fully.

"Come with me, Carly," her mom cooed gently, running a thin hand through Carly's dark locks, brushing them away from the girl's forehead, "Come be happy. Your brother and Freddie will be fine, trust me."

Carly bit her lip, indecision flashing in her dark orbs. How was she supposed to make a decision like this so instantaneously?

* * *

In the hospital, Carly Shay's heart faltered for a moment, sending doctors into a flurry. "Her condition is growing worse," one nurse exclaimed worriedly, re-attaching the IV to the girl's pale skin and making room for the more experienced medical crew….

* * *

**This one gave me chills for some reason (shudder.) Please review, I left you off with a cliffhanger! Oh, and for all those who were asking about the Sam/Freddie interaction while she's deceased, there you are. :)**


	13. Part Twelve

Part Nineteen

**A/N: Wow, I can't believe that this story doesn't have that much to go. I still have to develop quite a bit, but still… (sniffles and pulls out a hankie.) I want to thank you guys for reading this; I went back to look over my earliest chapters and I started laughing at myself because I used to be so pitiful at this, but I'm getting better…right? (silence) Right?! Haha, just kidding, now go and read, I'm done taunting you guys. **

My opaque vision filled with tears as Keith, Missy's sinister henchman, slapped the rod against my stomach yet again, flinging me across the room as though I were a doll, its threads slowly untwining. Freddie stood in the corner of the room, his expression vacant, his entire form frozen in the time whirlwind the auburn haired devil had created. As the splinters from the rod dug into my back, loosening droplets of blood from the cracked skin there, I wished for a moment that he really could be awake, that he could help me in some way.

'No,' my mind shrieked, sending my thoughts into a frenzy, 'This is your battle, Sam! You have to save him!' "Freddie," I groaned, my fingernails digging into the dark beige carpet, attempting to propel me to my feet, but my thighs felt as if they'd been turned to jelly, void of movement unlike most real jellos, I reflected silently, quickly mentally slapping myself for my uninterested attitude.

In an attempt to distract myself from the awful pain spreading throughout my shaking form I mustered a question that had nagged me ever since Missy had first seen me. "How the hell can you see me?" I whispered, hating the fact that my melodious alto voice was so weak, "I'm dead, aren't I?" But even that question wasn't entirely true; I'd seen for myself the rain hitting my slowly reappearing skin as I'd run here, felt the blows of Keith's splintered rod.

Missy laughed then, the sound reverberating off the four walls of the room, lowering the temperature of the room drastically; it felt like tiny icicles were forming on the bridge of my eyelids and I struggled to blink, attempting to prove my self-worthiness. "Do you really think I'm stupid?" The auburn haired beast sneered, nudging her head in the direction of Keith and a moment later his beefy arms wrapped a little too harshly around my hair, yanking me upwards. I bit my lip to suppress a scream at the agony expelling from my reddened scalp, instead focusing my blood-hazed vision on the demon in front of me, "Oh, so you finally caught on to how I feel about you. God, you're slow!" I sneered, a cry escaping through the gap in my pursed lips as the sturdy henchman yanked ferociously at my blonde tresses, yanking several strands out.

"You know as well as I do that your immortality is fading away," Missy hissed, her eyes narrowed to dark slits on her pale face. At the horror in my eyes she snickered lightly, as though this were a trifling issue and explained, "I have my ways of making the Papperman boy talk."

I swallowed back the instinctive terror – now that Missy knew she would simply lock me up until the immortal juice, or whatever the hell it is, drains out of me – and my oceanic orbs shot to where Freddie was crawling blindly across the dark space. Of course, it was only dark from his perspective; I could see quite clearly, although at this point I wasn't sure that I really wanted to see anything. There would be so much blood….but I couldn't think that way. I had to be a glass half full – whatever the hell that is supposed to mean; who knows with metaphors? Then again, I was never much of an optimist, "You never did say how you could see me!" I opted in what was supposedly a conversational tone. As long as I was going to perish painfully I may as well annoy the heck out of Missy.

Sure enough, the remaining color drained from Missy's face and her manicured midnight nails dug into the skin of her cheek, as though the simple mentioning of this topic caused her immeasurable agony. Finally her teeth unclenched and she muttered, "Let's just say that the night my virginity was stolen from me, I had a close escape from Death."

For a moment I felt sorry for the teenage girl in front of me; I couldn't even imagine being forced to the ground and stripped of my clothes. The pure terror of losing one's innocence violently brought the nausea to my throat and I swallowed hastily. Then again, this same girl had almost killed Carly and Spencer and now she was trying to kill my dork. I snapped at my tongue, holding back words that would only increase my torturous death statement, wanting really to claw off Missy's face. Instead, I hissed threateningly, as though I had a wild card to play, "So now you're some kind of psychic freak? How appealing! I bet the guys just love you!"

A moment later excruciating pain erupted in my forehead as Keith slammed my skull into the ground. I felt the sticky blood seeping from a noticeable gash in the side of my head, flowing sluggishly down my colorless face. 'There shouldn't be blood,' my mind warned me, but I was already far enough past that point. I knew that I was dying; it was inevitable.

"How DARE you!" Missy screeched, the demonic darkness slipping sinisterly into her forest green orbs, once wide with compassion and innocence, now dim with grief and murderous intent. My head was again slammed into the carpeted floor and the stars exploded onto the back of my eyelids, permanent in their residence. The blood continued to pour from the wound in my skull and I slipped closer and closer to the edge of the cliff, wishing that I could let go and fall into the calming abyss of Death. But there was something stopping me; that all too familiar face, once chubby with baby fat, now slender, with chocolate brown orbs and a captivating smile.

"Freddie," I whispered through half-numb lips, the tears budding in the corners of my now moist eyes. "Please….help me. I don't want to die…."

Carly stole another look at her mother, silently memorizing her once familiar facial features, the way she held herself, so proud and majestic. At one point she had wanted to be exactly like this woman in front of her, but there was something off. Something was dreadfully wrong; she just couldn't manage to place this unnerving feeling.

Looking once more at the role model of her life, the reason for her existence, the brunette took a step forward onto the glass bridge, smiling as the sounds of angelic voices singing reached her and light sprays of water hit her clammy skin, refreshing her instantly.

"That's it," her mother cooed, a flash of darkness appearing in those dark brown orbs, before she cleverly hid it, "Just a few more steps." '_And you'll be mine,' _she thought sinisterly, an all too familiar smirk appearing on her face. And for a moment her hair flew a bright rosy auburn.

Carly took another hesitant step and her whole form began to shimmer with an unearthly light, bathing her from head to toe, enticing her with promises of eternal freedom. As she took the third step forward her gaze flashed first to her mother, and what she saw there made her shiver with distrust. There was a certain sinister gleam in those once warm hazel orbs, a gleam that she'd seen in Missy Robinson's eyes just before she'd pulled out a knife and stabbed Carly in the side.

Turning back towards the bridge her scared glances caught onto a scene morphing in the clouds far below, a scene of a brunette haired teenage girl lying in a hospital bed surrounding by doctors and nurses. An IV remained slit into the skin at her wrist, providing her with an ongoing stream of medicine, while an electrical machine was lowered onto the girl's chest, attempting to zap the life back into the failing heart. And with absolute horror, Carly realized that the girl was her.

She was dying.

As she turned back towards her supposed mother, attempting to get off the accursed bridge, the now stranger woman blocked her path, all traces of friendliness and love vanished from her cold, cold gaze. "Where do you think you're going?" The voice of Missy Robinson asked, smirking evilly at the girl in front of her.

**Bum, bum buuuuuum!!!! What will happen to them?! (gasp) I guess you'll just have to comment to find out. Sorry this is so sucky and short, I'm short on time. **


	14. Part Thirteen

Remember Me – Part Twenty

**A/N: Who's pumped to read this new installment of my increasingly horror-filled story? These last couple of parts have made me shudder, mainly because I both hate and love when the hero of the story is trapped and hurt. Being the climax, it really gets you excited, but then I read what I wrote and I shiver at the gore and pain. Oh well, I'm still loving the story. A question to ponder seriously for you all: ****Do you think I should make a sequel to this story? ****I've had several people asking me if I will and I wasn't sure but if you will all give me a few ideas. I have a basic idea of what the plot will be, but I won't make it if you guys don't want it. Please let me know what you think, this is the most important question I've ever asked. Anyways, now that I'm done with that (unfolds begging hands and dusts off knees as stands up, giving puppy dog eyes to the reader) pwease read my story. If not for me, do it for world peace, and the children. (Who remembers what episode that is from?)**

My whole body arched with pain as it hit the ground with a thud. I'd lost track of the amount of time Keith had been torturing me, blocked out the excruciating misery as Missy sliced up my arms and legs with the blood encrusted blade. In my black studded mind I was slowly slipping off the edge of the cliff, remaining in this world only by the brush of my fingertips. 'It can't end like this,' my mind whispered hauntingly, a withered tone, fading ever so slowly. But then again, I never should have remained here in the first place.

For the first time in awhile my mind shot to the day of my death and I remembered the pain of watching Carly and Freddie kiss, of running towards the studio door, feeling the sparks dance on my shoulder as Freddork's fingers came in contact with the skin there, rushing out of the room, leaving, dying. I remembered how Missy's lips had curled up in satisfaction as she slid the knife through my muscle and bone, slitting right into my heart, re-felt the agony of sinking onto the concrete, watching the hazy, red stars explode in my vision.

'You were never meant to come back as a ghost, Sam,' Missy's voice echoed in the recesses of my mind and although I fought to keep it away it permeated the light in the furthest corners of my consciousness, dragging me into the darkest pit of despair, 'You only made things worse. Carly and Freddie will die because of you!' "No," I yelled, hating the cruel satisfaction visible on the she-demon's face, knowing that she was inflicting this mental agony on me.

The pictures popped into my mind without warning. There was Spencer lying on the worn carpet on the lower floor of his apartment, writhing in apparent pain, the blood gushing freely from a huge gash in his skull. There was Carly, her whole body shooting in the air as the doctors desperately attempted to electrocute the life back into her, without success. And there was Freddie twitching on the floor, his chocolate brown orbs wide with terror, staring right at me. Blood blossomed across his chest, staining the pure white polyester material of his T-shirt, draining the life out of him. 'Freddie,' my mind whispered and I wished to reach out to him, to comfort him in some way, but I couldn't. 'This isn't real,' my mind continued in a warning tone, but the sinister darkness crept back into my peripherals. Freddie's pale pink lips pursed as his eyebrows shot in and he glared right at me, shattering what was left of my confidence as he yelled, "This is ALL YOUR FAULT!"

'It's not real, Missy is just trying to hurt you,' my thoughts reasoned, but the blackness was overpowering my feeble strength and I fought the instinctive tears budding on my lower lashes. "Do you feel it?" The auburn haired beast cooed, her lithe fingers slapping me across the cheek with such force that I was knocked back onto the carpet again, gasping out loud as the henchman's foot slammed into my back, knocking the air flat from my lungs.

Forcing myself to raise up to my knees I sent a powerful glare right at Missy, and hissed through tightly clenched teeth, "Tell your henchman to back the hell off!" I hoped that there was enough defiance present in my cool tone, but Missy only laughed, brushing back a stray lock of her flaming red hair, "No, I don't think I will."

Once again the darkness poured into my thick skull as if the bone was riddled with mouse holes and I bit my lip, drawing blood, refusing to scream out loud. There was Spencer: dead. Carly: dead. Freddie, with the knife still buried up to the hilt in his leg. And he was screaming, awful sounds, over and over and over again. "FREDDIE!" I screamed, and to my horror I realized that the world was no longer frozen and Missy was across the room, dragging Freddie to his feet, using his ribs as a handhold.

The auburn haired devil's sharp nails pierced further into the boy's pale skin and more screams of pure agony erupted from his mouth, wounding my emotions more than I could ever expect. Oh God his screams were awful, like someone driving a nail through your head, like being pierced with a thousand needles over and over again. 'God, please stop this!' My mind shrieked; my lips were trembling far too much to make a sound.

Freddie's wheeling gaze caught my oceanic iris' and in his expression I could see fear, pain, disbelief and confusion. It was almost as if he was silently screaming 'Sam, help me, please, I'm so scared!' And God knew I wanted to help him but I couldn't move. My legs were being restrained by Keith and no matter how hard I struggled I couldn't escape this torturous prison. Missy's evil smile grew every passing second that Freddie cried out and when his eyes finally rolled back to the back of his head and he blacked out, unable to take the pain any longer, she sighed as if she'd lost a valuable play thing.

"Why are you doing this, Missy?!" I yelled, unable to care about my composure any longer. Freddie lay on the ground, his shrunken form twisted in ways that it shouldn't be; he was probably suffering from several broken ribs and a sprained leg, from the looks of it. His breathing was intensely shallow, far too small to be normal. I began to shake as the tears blurred my vision; it was almost unendurable to watch my dork go through something like this, something he didn't even deserve.

Missy stared at me for the longest moment, her expression shockingly neutral, void of the previous hate. But it was still there, the demonic darkness, tinted with burning red, encircling her once bright green orbs. Finally, in a soft tone, as if she were whispering to a toddler, enticing them to sleep, she replied. "If there's a heaven then there has to be a hell, right?"

When I nodded hesitantly, afraid of her reaction, she turned her burning gaze on me and for the slightest moment I saw a hint of the old Missy there; she was scared and lost. "I was chosen to serve the Devil, Sam. It's not a choice that I ever had." The bitterness returned to her hoarse voice then and the hatred began to creep in once more, clouding her entire persona with a certain destitute darkness.

I managed to find my voice then, seeing how confused the teenage girl in front of me looked, as though she had just woken up from a dream, "You don't have to work for Satan, Missy, trust me. I can help you, just please, let me go. Let Freddie and Carly and Spencer and everyone I love go free. Please!"

Missy shook her head, her auburn locks sweeping across her face, hiding it from my view and at first it seemed like she was actually considering my proposal, and then the husky laughter started up again. It was maniacal and insane laughter, not the light chuckle of one who is amused. "Do you actually think I'm going to let you go?" She hissed then, all the tenderness and stupidity gone from her person, banished to an unknown realm.

As Keith's arms wrapped around my neck my eyes bulged out, but before I could make sense of what Missy was planning, suddenly I couldn't breathe. The henchman's beefy fingers tightened around my slim neck, choking the life out of me and I began to wheeze; the stars exploded in my vision. All the darkness began to haunt me; I was dying and all my friends and family would die too. Just as I was about to slip off the edge my oceanic orbs caught a glance of the boy I loved and the simple look infused me with a golden warmth. As the air flattened out of my lungs, leaving me desperate for new oxygen, the golden light spread from my toes all the way to the crown of my head and instinctively I swung my arm back, whispering out in a choked tone, "God help me."

At first I thought the shot had been useless and then I saw the incredulous look on Missy's face. A moment later and the oxygen flowed freely to my lungs and as I looked around my heart gave a particularly loud thump; Keith lay dead on the floor, his now grey-sheened eyes glazed over and vacant. I held up my arms to my face, trying to ignore the pain in my throat from the man's hands, wondering, "Did I really do that?"

A loud screech distracted my attention and I turned to see Missy, her jaw hanging open as if it were on rusty hinges, a streak of saliva whipped across her lower lip. She wiped furiously at her face before meeting my awe-struck gaze and the pure hatred in her dark orbs was difficult to comprehend. There was something wrong about this situation; Missy couldn't possibly be this evil, could she?

"How DARE you!!!" The red haired female growled in disbelief, taking several steps towards me, "This CAN'T BE HAPPENING!!" Drawing the knife from her sash she held it out in front like a pike, advancing right towards me, muttering, "I'm going to kill you, and it's going to be slow and painful!!!"

**What's gonna happen to Sam??? Don't forget to answer my important question above ^^^^**


	15. Part Fourteen

_**Remember Me – Part Twenty One**_

**A/N: Hey everyone, do you remember me? If you don't, I'm the scatterbrained, stressed out writer that you all claim to love (or are you all lying in my face, huh? Haha) Yes, I haven't written in awhile, mainly because finals are looming close ahead and my junior class is starting to develop stuff for next year. I still can't believe that I'm going to be a senior! How have you all been? I've missed you all terribly, but as my computer continues to have issues and my life grows still more hectic, my writing is distracted and sporadic. I hope that you all can forgive me, please! 3 Maybe this chapter will make up for it?**

**Some recent reviews from my amazing readers: **

**Supercrazy: **_**Yes! You should definitely make a sequel for this one! This story is so great I am really hooked up to it :)) Cannot wait for the next chapters!**_

**ThatsWhatISaid129: **_**Don't ever stop writing. You have a true gift.**_

**2nitewepartay: **_**Oh, normally I hate these kind of stories but this is great! I really hope that Missy eventually realizes that Sam didn't do anything to her (while she's dying or something.) Wow, good job!**_

**All of you, not just these reviewers, are amazing; I really appreciate all of you, no joke. Just so you all are aware, there will be a sequel and I will post a teaser for it after the epilogue for this story, kay? After you read the teaser, please give some details I can include. I already know the basic plot, but details would be appreciated.**

**Now, if my jabbering has not rendered you mute, blind and deaf, read on my friends and hopefully enjoy what lurks within, lol. **

Fear predominated my erratic thoughts as Missy crept towards me, the dagger raised in her right hand. She resembled a tigress stalking after her prey in the heated jungle while the moon hangs aloft. Swallowing hard, I dotted away the beads of sweat from my creased forehead and forced my unwilling limbs to lift, until finally I was standing, equal with the hunter, "Missy…"

"What, Sam?" She snarled, her teeth tightly clenched as she paced around my frozen form.

"I don't want to kill you," I retorted numbly, my eyelids fluttering frantically as my oceanic orbs combed the room for some sort of weapon that I could use to defend myself. Huh, I might die in a few seconds but at least I would collapse fighting. It's the Sam Puckett way, I rationalized, chuckling humorlessly to myself as I recalled Freddie naming his breakfast habits the very same thing.

"You? Kill me?" She laughed then, her belly shaking with giggles as she bent over. And that's when I saw it. The hunting knife, the one that Freddie had hidden from his mom just a few months before; Mrs. Benson would have an aneurysm is she ever discovered it, I knew that for sure.

"_Puckett!" Freddie called my name sharply and my head turned, the blonde ringlets flying about my face, at his worried tone. It wasn't weird for our tech producer to freak out about such things as carbs and germs, but that was reciprocated by a sort of whiny voice. _

"_What's up, Benson," I retorted dryly, twirling a stalk of my yellow hair around my pointer finger as I shot the dork a bored look. Carly's torso twisted as she gave Freddork a concerned glance, but, to my utter surprise, he ignored her, holding my confused gaze. I'd thought the nerd worshiped the ground on my brunette best friend's feet but apparently something had changed. _

"_Can you follow me, please?" He asked hesitantly, averting his stormy orbs from mine. Hmm, it sounded like some serious chiz was bothering the boy; hey I'm not heartless, like some think, it wouldn't hurt to listen to him for once. Forcing back a gag (I'm still not good with following orders) I mumbled, "Make it quick, dork."_

_I saw him breathe a slight sigh of relief, though he turned to hide it from me, before opening the door of Carly's apartment and heading across to his. Crossing my arms I gave him a skeptical glance, waiting for an explanation but he only shook his head, beckoning me closer. _

"_Make it quick, Sam," Carly quipped, a smile tinting her face bright, "Girly Cow is on in fifteen minutes." She turned back to the TV then, but I swore I saw her giggle to herself, eyeing the nerd and I. That girl was easily up to something; I'd have to coax it out of her later, she can't lie to save her life. _

"_Sam out," I joked weakly, reluctantly spinning to face Fredlina as he unlocked his front door; I was mildly surprised to see just an ordinary lock. "Hmm, no padlock, I'm shocked!" I laughed out loud as he glared right at me. _

"_Whatever," he muttered, truly rendering me mute for a millisecond. The dork never gives up an opportunity to goad me; I swear, it's as if he actually enjoys the pain my fists and feet inflict. _

"_So," I trilled randomly, attempting to break the static charging between our two forms, trying to forget about the weird squiggly feeling in my stomach when he stared at me, "Mama's hungry. You got any ham?" Before he could answer I was charging across the room and opening the double-doored fridge, a grin lighting up my face as I reached for the hammy treat on the second shelf. Slamming the meat into my mouth I let out a satisfied grown, my eyes glazing over. _

"_Sa-am!" Freddork whined in that baby voice that I detest and he grabbed my arm, tugging me down the hallway while I attempted to scramble back to the ham, hitting him the whole way._

"_Let. Me. Go!" I yelled, exasperated, just as he shoved me into his room, locking the maple wood door behind us so I couldn't escape. Well, he knew that I could; I have exceptional skills with pickpocketing, but he chose not to mention it, simply shuffling towards his dresser._

_I gazed about his room, my eyebrows raising as I took it all in. It wasn't like I'd expected, really; I assumed his mom would have decorated the walls will her rhymy headache things that drive me insane, but two walls were simply painted beige and the other two midnight blue. His covers were felt and really silky, I reflected as I sank onto his queen sized bed. My smoky azure orbs widened a little as they connected with a picture of Freddork and me at last years Christmas party. Carls had been out of town for the weekend with Spencer so I'd picked the lock and dragged Freddie into the Shay's apartment. _

_I bit my lip to keep from laughing as I remembered that I'd stolen a bit of booze from my uncle Carmine (you know the one who's been in jail five times and decorated his whole body with tattoos of whales) and I'd slipped some into Freddork's ice tea. We ended up making out on the couch and then the next morning I left before he woke up; I think that was the day I pretended to be sick so the dork would bring me ham and smoothies from the Groovy Smoothie. Freddie and I never talked about that night; to be honest, I doubt he even remembers. _

"_Sam," the nerd mumbled nervously, shooting me a shy glance before exposing the object clutched gingerly in his left palm. For a moment my mouth hung open and then I burst out in a fit of laughter, curling in on myself until it was almost impossible to breathe. During my episode Freddicini kept glancing at me, more and more disguised worry in his chocolate brown orbs, until finally, several minutes later, I brushed the happy tears from my eyes and took in a shuddering breath, "I'm okay…I'm okay…heh."_

"_What?" He questioned, clearly bemused as to why I was cracking up. I immediately thumped him on the head and another round of laughter commenced as he winced and then gave me a disgruntled expression._

"_Dude, you were all worried about showing me…a….k-knife." I choked out, the laughter bubbling in the back of my throat. This was just so Freddie to get all freaked out over a tiny hunting knife._

"_Don't laugh," he ordered weakly, wrapping his arms in a defensive position over his chest as I stood up from the all too comfortable bed (don't let your mind go there, Puckett) before frolicking merrily down the hallway, snagging the ham as I went along. Freddie followed me slowly, dragging his shoes over the beige carpet as I skipped into the Shay's apartment. _

"_You okay there, Sam?" Carly asked me as I flopped down onto her couch beside the brunette, snuggling into her shoulder and shoving another humongous piece of meat in my piehole, "I thought you would die from laughing," she admitted, chuckling a little at my suddenly menacing expression. The girl had been spying on the dork and I, confound it! _

"_Oh everything's fine, the nerd's just being his dorky, germaphobic little self," I teased, whacking the boy over the head with the TV remote and flashing him a cocky grin…_

Now I was increasingly glad that the dork had bought this semi-sturdy weapon; it was definitely preferable to nothing in this situation. Grasping the knife sturdily in my right hand I spun on my heels to face the suddenly stunned auburn demon, "Not so powerful now, are you?" I taunted, sticking my tongue out at the girl, knowing that I was only provoking death, but somehow enjoying it.

Closing her gaping mouth, Missy's stormy glowing orbs flashed with red for a moment and she hissed under her breath, "Ooh, a hunting knife, I'm so scared now!" She brandished her own weapon, kicking Keith's lifeless body to the side as she stepped towards me; her henchman had never meant anything to her, I realized with disgust, he was simply another pawn in her malicious game.

Sucking in a fresh breath, I steadied my form before flashing out with my knife, cursing as Missy blocked the attack easily, a smirk clearly visible on that shrunken face. I parried calmly, forcing back the blood-lust creeping through my swollen veins and arteries. This wasn't about killing anymore, I reflected silently as we exchanged a flurry of well met blows, each swipe nearing closer to my neck. Backing up a few steps I tried recalculating, but there wasn't any time. Missy charged at me again, a shriek emitting from those red, plump lips and I cried out as her dagger slit the skin of my wrist, drawing blood to the surface.

As the liquid oozed sluggishly from my wound Missy crowed, "Look at you! You aren't even immortal anymore; your time is up!" She yelled, slashing the air again and I barely blocked the overhead swing.

'This can't be the end,' my mind pleaded uselessly as the red haired devil backed me into the corner of my room. Blood dripped from several new cuts on my face; sweat drenched my skin. My vision was blurred with pain and fear and I could barely make out the contours of Freddie Benson as he lay, unconscious, on the stained carpet.

"NO!" I roared then, just as Missy's dagger swung directly at my feebly beating heart, and a golden light flooded the room. The huntress was flung across the now intensely bright room as the golden light infused me, filling me with courage and strength. It wanted to heal me, I could tell, but it couldn't work magically on Earth anymore. It was just as Missy had said. My time was up.

Just as the cry left my trembling lips, the golden color convulsed into a single entity in the middle of the room and then it disappeared for the briefest second before an explosion of red shook the room. The howling noise was piercing and I clawed at my ears, trying to escape the horrible noise, while Missy sat in the corner of the room, her eyes closed in supplication.

"You have done well Melissa Robinson," a cold, cold voice whispered hauntingly as the wind toppled the books from their shelves and the papers whipped around the room. A minute later and the red began to swirl in one spot, forming bigger and broader until it stretched in an oval shape across half the room. I felt my breath catch in my throat as my gaze locked on the horrible scene within that red whirlwind of despair.

There was a rock, just one, cratered and shrunken with age. A sea of foaming lava waved up and down, up and down around the rough, jagged escape, pulling tiny pieces of sedimentary soil into it's boiling depths. On the pointed rock sat a group of non-human beings, their skin black with age and of the incinerating temperature of the rumbling lava beneath. Most of them bowed low in front of the blackest of them all, a creature almost too horrid to describe. All I could see was a curved beak and midnight black eyes filled with utmost hatred and loathing, cracked coal-like skin that shed off with the being's every slightest movement. When it met my gaze I felt all my hope sink deep within my soul, felt the destitute longing to belong to that forgotten red place. It was Satan.

The wind increased in tempo, wailing like its very essence was breaking apart into little fragments and my fingers clawed at the bedpost, desperately trying to hold onto anything that could prevent me from falling into that awful, horrible place called hell. I saw Freddie's form sliding across the crumbling foundation of the building, watched as Missy shot me a terrified glance filled with both confusion and hatred before fleeing the premise, heard the demon called Satan laugh hopelessly with victory as I lost my grasp on the bed.

"GOD HELP ME!" I cried out, the tears streaming freely, relentlessly down my pale cheeks as my universe was swept away into nothing. This couldn't actually be happening; this sort of predicament only occurred in the movies and this was my home, my friends and family. NO! My mind clung to the pictures of Carly and Freddie and Spencer as Satan pulled me mercilessly into his diseased corpse. And then, everything began to rumble. My heart felt like it was ballooning in my chest as the white light permeated the red.

I was falling again, but it wasn't into the red abyss; I was clothed in white and everything was disappearing around me….Suddenly I hit the asphalt hard and I choked out a gasp as the air was knocked flat from my lungs. After a moment of recovery my eyes spun around the unfamiliar surroundings, landing with shock on an angelic form seated on an elaborate chair. On his head sat a crown of thorns, the barbs piercing his glowing flesh. He gave me a gentle smile as I shuddered in disbelief and croaked, "Where am I? Who are you?"

"I am who I am," he answered me in a peaceful tone, his golden orbs probing my form for any imperfection. I felt the tears course down my dirty face as I crumpled to the ground before God, murmuring, "I'm not ready to leave, I'm only seventeen years old! Please! P-please." I fell to my face before the Almighty One, knowing that it would do no good to plead anymore. My fate was already decided.

And then, he whispered, "You did a brave thing tonight, Samantha Jean Puckett, trying to save the one you love. You don't deserve grace, however, you know that, don't you?"

I could only nod, awaiting the punishment.

It never came. "So be it," was all he echoed, his powerful tenor voice booming out across the whiteness and a moment later, my eyelids fluttered open.

I was in the Shay's apartment. It was five in the morning. I was alive.

**Hey everyone! There's only, like, one part left in this story and I'm really sad, but I'm happy the way this chapter came out. Sorry for any mistakes; I typed this up really late, but I wanted you all to read it :)**


	16. Part Fifteen

Remember Me Part Twenty Two

**I don't know about you all but I can't believe that this is the second to last part of Remember Me. I know that it's not the best story out there but it has and always will be my favorite story. I will, in fact, be making a sequel. Two things that would tremendously help me is: **_**1) After the last part of this story I will post a trailer/insider for the sequel to this story and it would be amazing if you could offer me title suggestions, and 2) side plots within the story that I could do. **_**Now, before I start crying in disbelief, read on, my dear friends, read on. **

I couldn't move, couldn't think, couldn't even draw a breath through my slowly flattening lungs. The clock on the wall chimed lazily and my oceanic orbs swiveled to meet the round surface, the numbers 5:00 clearly visible on the circular device. The slow tick-tock, tick-tock of the little hand calmed my frayed nerves, smoothed out the wrinkles lining my blood-stained forehead and finally, I inhaled sharply, a little gasp escaping my mouth as the fresh oxygen filled my chest cavity. 'W-what the hell just happened,' was all my mind could bear to bring up, I was so in paralytic shock.

I didn't want to think about what had just happened, because there was no conceivable way that it should have occurred, yet it had. I could picture the agony as Missy had dug her hands into Freddie's milky white skin, dragging him to his feet until he'd blacked out from the pain, feel Keith's beefy fingers enclosing around my waist until I sputtered my last breaths and the golden light emitting from my hands, bathing me in radiance. The pictures spun faster, rapid now, until I almost couldn't separate one from the other. But perhaps I should be thankful that I couldn't see all the disturbing images.

Keith's lifeless form hunched over on the carpet, Missy kicking his corpse to the side like punishing a disobedient dog, her knife piercing my wrist, the skin splitting like a juicy slice of ham as one cuts it….My head bowed into my shaking hands and I cowered under the weight of the images, wishing that they would just evaporate from sight. My eyes wheeled blindly around my sockets as I writhed on the Shay's floor; if anyone came in here now they would banish me to the crazy institute, I reflected morosely. Eh, maybe I would find Briggs there and I could torture the living daylights out of the woman. I chuckled at the thought; I could already feel my old attitude returning to me bits at a time, parts of myself that I'd forgotten when my life was in danger.

For a single silent moment the tears threatened to spill down my cheeks but I reined them back in, knowing that I'd been a huge crybaby as of late. Sam Puckett doesn't cry, not now, not ever, I forced myself to obey reluctantly and yet eagerly. A huge part of me was ecstatic to return to how I'd used to be, the days I'd pelted unsuspecting students with eggs and shoved the teachers into the supply closet, taping them to chairs.

Could it really be, I asked myself in wonderment, could I really be alive again after all of this?

"S-sam?" A groggy male voice questioned in utter amazement and my eyes flew open in shock. He could see me, he could actually see me. My torso twisted and a grimace twisted my facial features drastically, but the pain was worth it, for towering over my shrunken form, dressed in nothing but ducky boxers, was Spencer Shay, tears budding in his brown gaze.

"Hey Spenc," I whispered, hearing my normal voice for the first time, as cracked and wasted as it was, "You look…um…I was gonna say good, but I'd be wasting a perfectly good encouraging word." I joked weakly, attempting to act like my old self; hopefully it would only take a little bit of time to adjust.

A moment later I felt strong arms cupping my waist and Spencer was lifting me to my feet and laying me gently on the worn, patterned couch where Carly, Freddork and I had argued and laughed so many times over the years. If anybody else had tried picking me up I would have punched them flat in the nose and called them a filthy hobknocker. Did you know that word – hobknocker – is illegal? It's officially my new favorite term. Once I called Mable Gallini, you know, the weird woman who tried to hook up with Spencer way back when, a hobknocker and she threw one of her stilettos at me. Luckily, the woman had terrible aim and it shattered her humongous fish bowl across the room. I could hear her screaming "fish murderer!" at me as she bent over her ginormous guppy named Albert.

As I inhaled sharply my eyes nearly bugged out of my head with the comforting, delectable scent of ham wafting in the air and my body turned towards Spencer, who was flashing me a concerned glance. He must have ingested the whole juicy pig for dinner, that glutton. Just as my mouth opened to make a demand, Spencer beat me to it, "Where have you been? Carly and Freddie were frantic, putting up Lost posters all over Seattle, and now, a week later, you just appear lying down on my carpet?" A vein bulged in the older man's neck as he ranted uncontrollably and I waited calmly for him to finish.

So that was how this deal had worked out; the Lord had changed everything around so my friends and family thought I'd run away. 'God damn it', I swore in my mind, quickly regretting the words, 'Sorry, God.' After all, the man upstairs had saved my butt from destruction. I had to give him props. Sucking in a deep breath I snapped, "Give me ham and I'll answer your questions." What? Mama loves her ham, especially now.

Running a hand through his greasy hair, Spencer nodded absentmindedly, a sigh rumbling in his throat, "Fine, you always win." He shot me a defeated glance before sloping over to the kitchen and when he tripped, falling face first onto the linoleum I let out a full belly laugh, my body curving in on itself. As I brushed the happy tears from the corners of my narrowed eyes Spencer let out a dissatisfied hum that resonated throughout the whole apartment and glared playfully at me, "Stop laughing, Sam."

"Nope," I answered him, chuckling under my breath as he reached for a butcher knife and opened the fridge, pulling out the hammy treat, beginning to slice it into round slices. The simple act made my mouth water with food-related lust.

A minute later a piece of meat was flung right at my head and I caught it neatly in the air, plopping it right in my awaiting mouth. As my pearly white teeth sank reverently into the ham my eyes nearly rolled into the back of my head with pleasure, "Mmmmm."

"Still fond of meat I see," Spencer noted as he carried the platter of ham into the living room, seating himself on the chair adjacent to my position and he laid the plate onto the wooden table in between our two tense forms. He grinned as my hands grasped a huge chunk of the meaty goodness and shoved it into my awaiting mouth. "Mfho shtou," I told him rather seriously and he only gave me a funny look, tilting his head slightly to the side.

I sighed dramatically, twirling a strand of my unruly blonde hair around my middle finger as I swallowed before muttering, "Of course." "Ah," he replied, nodding his head in understanding and the apartment fell silent. It wasn't an uncomfortable silence; however, I actually relished the time to gather my frenzied thoughts back into a semi-orderly pile in the forefront of my mind. I was still mostly out of it; this whole being alive business takes some time to get used to.

"Where have you been?" He finally asked, the tone barely a whisper in the silence and I shrugged, unable to answer him truthfully. Something was telling me not to tell any of them the truth; they wouldn't comprehend it. It wasn't for several minutes more that the complete silence triggered unease in my thoughts; something still wasn't right, I just couldn't place what it was. The ignorance of the situation irritated me and I lashed my head back and forth, determined to discover the answer to the deepening quiet. Finally, it came to me, troubling and tentative.

"Where's Carly?" I asked him in an emotionless voice, fearing the answer that I already knew would come. Not everything could possibly change and if so, I could pinpoint the exact location of my brunette best friend.

Spencer bit his lip, looking away from me. I could hear a tremor in his tone as he murmured lifelessly, "She's in the hospital. Missy Robinson from school stabbed her."

I bit my lip as the words left his mouth and as the blood began trickling sluggishly down my jaw a memory of watching Missy stab Carly rushed through my mind, trapping me in its despair.

_"I told you I don't want to do this anymore!" Carly hissed, wrapping her arms around herself, seeming on edge._

_Missy smiled sinisterly at her supposed friend and my hands balled into fists. I wanted to pummel this girl into the hard, cold ground. "Carly, you innocent little girl, you really have no idea what this is about, do you?"_

_Carly shuddered at the expression in Missy's eyes, "Enlighten me then!"_

_Missy's eyes narrowed and it seemed in that moment that her pupil's were ringed in blue fire. "Sam was everything that I wanted to be! She had you as her best friend, and she had Freddie as the guy who was in love with her! I had no choice but to change that!" My eyes widened as she mentioned that Freddie was in love with me, and I closed my gaping mouth. Nobody else had heard Freddork blurt out those three words in his room that fateful afternoon._

_"You did all of this because you were jealous?" Carly snapped, infuriated. "You freaking murdered my best friend!"_

_Missy rolled her eyes, "Stop being so melodramatic. It's more than just jealousy, Carls. This beast of a girl destroyed me! She drove me to the brink of insanity! I was just thirteen when I walked home alone that one night! I didn't deserve it, I didn't deserve to have my first time in an alley because I was forced to! It was her cousin, and I know she put him up to it! So I destroyed her, and she deserved it!" I began to shake as I saw the demonic red glint in her eyes. This girl was insane._

_"I….I'm sorry," Carly mumbled honestly._

_"It's a little late for apologies, don't you think?" Missy screeched, and then suddenly she got a sickly sweet smile on her conniving face, a smile that I instantly distrusted, "Oh Carly, you've been such a big help to me. You knew this was the right thing to do, getting rid of Sam. She was just a big waste of space…."_

_"Sam was my best friend, not a waste of space," Carly insisted firmly and my eyes widened as Missy pulled a thin knife from her bag, holding it behind her back. I screamed, beating on the air around the two, trying to get my best friend to listen to me, but I could do nothing._

_"You've done so well," Missy continued in the sickly sweet voice, stepping closer to Carly, "And as I promised, I won't ask you for any more help. Just…come here for a second," she grinned wickedly as the brunette paced even closer. "I can't have anyone exposing my secret," the insane one whispered, raising the knife slowly. Carly stood there, completely oblivious to the fact that her life was in danger, "What are you talking about?"_

_Missy cocked her head to the side, as if surveying her prey and then she murmured in a sing-song voice, "Goodbye Carly Shay." Before I could say anything, she drove the knife right into Carly's side._

_My vision flickered, and I fell to my knees with a scream of agony as my best friend sank to the floor, the blood pouring from the wound…_

Without a word to the brunette male on the couch in front of me I sprang to my feet, fear presiding in my blurred vision and rushed out of the Shay's apartment, seeking only one place. I knew that there wasn't a likely chance he would be here, but I couldn't even imagine going anywhere else. I know that sounds so emotional of me, but hey, my best friend is possibly dying in the hospital, give me a little slack.

"Sam!" I heard Spencer called, trepidation oozing out of his tenor voice as he crossed the apartment to get to me, but I'd already broken down the Benson's wooden door, stomping half-blindly into the dark living room. As I'd suspected, there was no sign of life visible to me, in fact, dust covered every piece of furniture in the room and curled, invisible to the naked eye, in spirals in the air. My shaking hand slid over the protective covering of the couch as I sank onto the squeaky clear material, the sound that erupted sending my alert senses into a frenzy.

Spencer didn't approach me; he was smart to stay far, far away. I would, without a doubt, rip off anyone's head who dared to come near my frozen form. In the unnatural silence, the simple sound of our mingling breathes twirled, unseen, in the air between our tense forms for several minutes. I could almost hear Missy's victorious crow as she muttered in my awaiting ear, 'I have won, Samantha Puckett. You have fallen right into my trap!' This still wasn't over, I knew it.

"Spencer." My voice sounded like the inside of a crypt as my torso turned, my horrorstruck oceanic orbs seeking Carly's older brother, "We have to get to the hospital, now."

**One more part left! What will happen to Carly, hmmmm? There will be an epilogue after part twenty three ;) Sorry if there was any errors, I'll look over it soon, I promise.**


	17. Part Sixteen

Remember Me Part Twenty Three

**A/N: Hey everyone, this is the second to last part of Remember Me. There will be an epilogue and a sequel for those who were asking. I came up with a name for the sequel but I still need mini plot ideas. Help a girl out? Fine, now go read, haha. **

Spencer didn't move a single muscle in his body; his face remained cocked at an odd angle, an imperturbable expression glazing those brown eyes over. I rolled my eyes, still on edge with the situation and I reached for the object closest to me, my tongue sliding out the side of my mouth as I aimed carefully. With a grunt I heaved the expensive glass vase across the room, wincing as it connected with a _thunk _against the side of Spencer's head and the older man collapsed on the ground.

"Oops," I mumbled under my breath as I heaved my lazy butt up off the squeaky, protected couch, grimacing as I stretched out my sore muscles. Missy had probably left bruises and cuts all over my body when she attacked me like a crazy woman, I reflected calmly, too perturbed to think about the time when I'd been dead. Rushing over to Spencer's side two of my fingers shot out, planting firmly against his wrist and I sighed in relief as I felt a strong pulse emitting from under the taut skin there.

As Spencer let out a groan my eyelids fluttered and my blue gaze whirled around the room. I let out a trilling laugh as I saw the unbroken vase lying by Spencer's foot, the label 99 cent story clearly visible on the base of the decorative ornament. "Cheepskate," I grumbled almost inaudibly as I turned back towards the awakening Spencer, "C'mon, rise and shine, sleeping beauty!"

"Mmmhmhhm," the unconscious adult mumbled defiantly and I sighed, wishing that I didn't have to resort to this and yet giddy about Spencer's wake up surprise. Sneaking foot over foot towards the linoleum tiled kitchen floor my gaze landed on the clear glass bowl sitting on the marble countertop….

Spencer spazzed out as the chilling water connected with his spine and his body arched up off the floor as his eyes bugged out. I burst out laughing, slapping my thighs to relieve some of the humorous attention on the young man's soaking wet form thrashing on the floor.

"Sam!" Spencer yelped, hooking his finger tightly around one of the loops on the back of his jeans, tugging up the waterlogged material as it resisted, hugging to his slim, scrawny legs, "N-n-not coooool!"

"Aw, stop your whining, Spenc," I crowed, my eyebrows waggling challengingly at the adult wringing the freezing H2O out of his Mariner's red T-shirt. When he only glared, unmoving, up at my still body, I rolled my eyes dramatically, my hands gripping his shirt as I tugged him invasively to his feet. He let out little snorting sounds as my fingers brushed against his bare skin, sending spasms of laughter rushing through him.

"Sam, what did I tell you about personal bubble space?" Spencer reprimanded, biting his lower lip to keep from chuckling at the whole situation. Before he could actually comprehend what was going on – hey, getting konked in the head with a vase could be neurologically prohibiting, okay? Whoa, did I just actually think that? Hmm, I sound like a doctor right about now….go Doctor Spencer! – my hand had shot out, snaking possessively around his skinny wrist, clamping down on the smooth skin there and I ran out of the apartment towards the elevator.

"You should know by now that I don't listen to anybody," I finally answered Spencer in a shaded tone, averting my fearful gaze from his. I didn't want anybody, and I mean anybody, to know that I was actually still afraid for my best friends.

"True," he conceded reluctantly, his face sinking with disbelief as his chocolate orbs flashed to the Out Of Order sign posted ominously on the shut, gold tinted, elevator doors, "No! They can't be out of order! We have to get to the hospital!"

I almost laughed despairingly as I mused over his shallow words. I had been through so much worse in these past couple months that a slight disturbance such as an elevator breaking down sounded mundane in comparison, "We'll just take the stairs. No biggie," I reassured him.

"But I'm out of shape!" I heard him sputter as I began to rapidly descend the box pattern staircase, my individual hands trailing over the maple wood railings as I traipsed along purposefully.

"Deal with it, fattie," I muttered under my breath, my emotions tangled up with worry for Carly. Right now she could be slipping away from us and we couldn't do a damn thing.

Carly's breathing was labored as she lay still on the hospital gurney, her skin as pale as mist rising over a clouded valley. The simple sight of his best friend looking so lost and wounded stole his breath away and it was all that he could do to remain sitting there in the stupid, uncomfortable chair by her side. His rash side urged him to stand up and push away the seating contraption and demand that these idiotic doctors would do better, that they would save Carly's life.

"Think rationally," he murmured softly to himself, his right hand reaching up hesitantly to grip Carly's fingers in his shaking palm. The pad of his thumb arched back and forth across her cold fingers, stroking the skin there, eliciting tingles along his whole arm. At one point in time this simple action would have meant the world to his dumb male hormones and he would have lived in bliss for the days to follow, vehemently reassuring himself that Carly Shay would one day love him in return.

He chuckled slightly at the thought, letting go of the girl's hand, a few lingering strands of her brunette hair catching between his thumb and pointer finger as he retracted the limb. He now found the whole situation humorous and he entirely comprehended the fact that he had never truly loved Carly. He'd been young and benevolent and volatile and he'd stuck his throbbing heart out there for all to see; he'd truly deserved the brunette's constant rejections.

The actions of holding her hand and kissing her cheek didn't leave any emotional purchase for him anymore, however. She was like a dear sister to him, the kind of sibling that you don't claim to loathe, the devoted girl that you would give your life to protect. Even before they'd dated he felt the tingly sensations begin to fade somewhat; of course, she was still a female and the brush of opposite sex's skin would always release irrational hormones. But he'd dated her anyways, needing to overcome the rejection and build confidence in their relationship before he moved on.

It still hurt to think about that afternoon at Carly's house when they'd ended things for real. It had been necessary, he reflected morosely, weaving a hand through his straight brown hair and flicking away a dust bunny that had landed on his shoulder.

_Carly and Freddie were sitting on the couch next to each and they weren't in each other's arms. Freddie sat on the far left side of the red patterned piece of furniture, a guilty expression adorning his features, his feet crossed Indian style underneath him. Carly shrank further into the opposite end of the couch, a worried and scared look in her dark brown eyes_

_"Listen, Carls," Freddie gave a little half-hearted sigh. It was his signature sigh that told the person he was conversing with that he wished he could avoid the topic. It never worked on Sam, when she was alive she would have simply shoved him up against the wall, clutching his collar until her fingers turned white from lack of circulation, and demanded answers. The old Carly wouldn't have pushed anything, she would have given him the space he needed, and joked around a little. _

_This new Carly was cold and hard and everything that she used to be against. She rolled her eyes, "If you're going to dump me then just get to it!"_

_Freddie immensely shocked and he literally recoiled a little bit before mumbling, "Uh…um….Carly….I wanna break up with you."_

_Carly looked away, a trace of tears in her eyes as she whispered, "This was never the right thing to do."_

_Freddie's eyebrows rose in confusion, "What are you talking about?"_

_Carly took in a deep breath, and her shoulders set in determination. She whirled to face Freddie and he shrank back a little at the pure fury in her response. Her brown eyes seemed to glint red as she hissed, "You never loved me! Even when we were freshman and you mooned over me you never loved me! It was always Sam! I was always second best to her! Always!" Her voice cracked a little._

_"And you know what the worst part of it is, Freddie?" Carly's gaze didn't soften in the least, but the demonic red glint seemed to evaporate, leaving pools of hurt and despair in her sunken eyes. She swallowed hard, as if forcing back tears. "The worst part of it is that you don't even realize that you're in love with Sam."_

_Freddie's gaze filled with shock and he shot back, "But, I don't…"_

_Carly shook her head, taking in a shaky breath, "Stop lying to yourself; you know I'm right, and I have been all along." She looked away for a long moment, and when her gaze met his again all he could see was pure sadness radiating from her. "I was never as important to you as Sam was, and I never will be. I've been fooling myself all along."_

_Freddie just sat there staring at her; he was stunned by her words, "Carly…I…" he whispered, seemingly unable to speak in the moment._

_The red glint returned to Carly's eyes and she almost yelled, "Just get out of my apartment, Freddie! I can't take it anymore! You and I both know that you're in love with Sam, so what's the point of you staying here trying to mend a relationship that was never whole to start with!"_

_Freddie's eyes filled with tears at her words, and he hissed through gritted teeth, "Maybe you're right, Carly. Maybe we never were meant to be! But have you even considered for a minute that there's one flaw in your monologue? Maybe, I don't know, Sam being DEAD! How can you possibly be jealous of someone who committed suicide, Carly?" He looked away, biting his lip and holding back the torrent of tears that threatened to spill any moment._

_Carly looked down as Freddie continued ranting, the tears shining in her eyes. "Have you ever considered that I'm in love with a girl who's dead, a girl who I want to be with for the rest of my life, but can't? I don't think you have! I think you're so caught up in your own little pity party that you won't see the truth staring you right in the damn face!"_

_Carly suddenly slapped him hard across the face, leaving a red mark across his cheek. The tears began rolling down her cheeks as she screamed, "SHUT UP! JUST SHUT UP FOR ONCE IN YOUR DAMN LIFE! STOP TELLING ME THAT I DIDN'T CARE ABOUT SAM! JUST GET OUT OF MY HOUSE!"_

_Freddie looked at the girl that he had once loved, hurt and betrayal flashing through his chocolate brown eyes, "When did you change? You're not the Carly Shay that I knew two years ago." Without another word he stalked out of the apartment, leaving Carly sitting there, her mouth agape with shock._

He wanted to fix things with the girl lying unconscious on the bed but he might never have the chance to. She looked as if she only had hours left to live.

"Mr. Benson?" The nurse asked as she entered the room, tremors racking her voice as she addressed him.

"It's Freddie," he whispered, unable to summon any more energy. However, the sour note to her voice alerted him and his gaze lifted to meet her paranoid one.

"Freddie," she amended hastily, her fingers trembling on the edges of the clipboard, "The doctor wanted me to tell you." She hesitated, pain visible on her delicate facial features.

"What did the doctor want you to tell me?" He asked, his hope dwindling as he saw the sorrow in her hazel orbs.

"We've done everything we can, but…." The nurse paused to swallow back tears and when she looked up again her hazel gaze was clouded over with unshed droplets, "Carly Shay has only a few minutes left to live. I'm so sorry."

Freddie Benson fell to the floor as the blackness swooped in.

**Okay, sorry to drag this story on, but there's so much to develop. Hope you don't mind ;)**


	18. Part Seventeen

Remember Me Part Twenty Four

**A/N: Hey everyone, I really cannot believe that this story is coming to a close soon, can you? Letting you know now, again, this is NOT the last part. Don't shoot me, please, I'm begging you. I mean, I remember writing the first part and putting it on here and thinking that it was so amazing and that I was the best writer out there and then I read Birdhouse in your Soul by Panda Hallows and iCarly's own MLP by Luna Moody and realized how indescribably incompetent I was in comparison. After I write up this and the next part and whatever might be left until the conclusion and the epilogue I will be going through this story and editing and cutting and adding – especially to the earlier parts because I way overdramatized those, even I can't deny it. And then in addition to the epilogue I will be posting a promo for the sequel to this story. You'll find out the name of the sequel when the promo comes out so just be patient. And now, my dear readers, go on and read, why else would you be on Fanfiction, duh! Sorry, I'm being cynical, lol.**

"Sam, chill," Spencer told me, glancing over to the front passenger seat where I crouched clutching the Shay's leftover ham, my pensive gaze sweeping the fast enlightening horizon. I responded simply by shoving another piece of the delicious meat into my gaping mouth, chewing slowly, attempting to savor the delectable scent and mouthwatering taste of the meager morsel. Spencer sighed, his attention returning to the road ahead and he expertly navigated a left turn as the golden sun's outer rim appeared behind the crooked crags in the far distance.

"Since when can you drive well?" I attacked weakly, my tongue sweeping around my lips in an effort to snag every last speck of ham littered on my jaw and cheeks.

"For your information I am a fab-u-lous driver, thank you very much," Spencer retorted, screaming like a girl as he ran a red light and almost crashed into oncoming traffic. He spun the wheel frantically and the car spun a 360 in the intersection, the signals a blur of green, red and yellow. I managed a laugh of exhilaration as Spencer finally managed to right the direction of the vehicle, ramming into a no U turn sign before sweeping into the barrage of honking cars.

"Sure…." I chortled, eyeing the older adult meaningfully, "You're a great driver, Spenc." I clapped him on the back, biting my lip to keep a fresh round of chuckles as his face went stark white. At the next signal Spencer pulled off into a free parking zone, slamming the driver's door open as he rushed out to survey the damage.

"Fender bender!" He pouted, his lower lip jutting out in a childish expression, just as my eyes landed on the keys still thrust into the ignition. The engine hummed steadily as Spencer rocketed from one end of the BMW to the other, his fingers running over the dent marks and I sighed, knowing that I could kidnap his precious car. I probably shouldn't though – Spencer was bound to be terrified for his little sister.

The thought of Carly sent another wave of dismal hopelessness coursing through me and the familiar ache started in my heart. I really shouldn't have to feel this way anymore, I rationalized sullenly, my hands grasping at the skin of my chest, clawing at the place where my heart lurked beneath. The major downside to having a conscience and a heart is that the ones you actually trust end up hurting you and although you try to withstand it, eventually your heart is broken.

Right now more than anything I wished that I could be at the hospital _right now_, grasping Carly's cold hand in mine and whispering words of comfort in her ear. But, even when I was dead I couldn't magically teleport – life doesn't work that way, unfortunately – so there's no conceivable way I could ever fly as a human with a beating, functioning heart.

The burning feeling built up in my throat, threatening to send the accursed tears to my azure orbs but yet again I brushed back the thought of crying. Carly was probably dying and Freddie would be a mess for sure and if I was bawling my stupid eyes out then….well just trust me when I say that I can't cry, okay?

"Stupid cars….sue them…I'm a lawyer!" Spencer growled menacingly, although in reality it was extremely funny, and climbed into the driver's seat, wiggling the key in the ignition. The engine gave out an animalistic growl, sputtering to life and I sank in my seat, turning my head to lie down on the head rest. All of a sudden, I didn't feel so cool and confident anymore.

As Spencer pulled into traffic my eyes scanned the horizon once more and the gleam of the sunrise astounded me momentarily. The glowing orb of earthly light was surrounded by a ring of licking orange flames, red tinting the outline of the fire immersions. Golden light spilled onto the heavens above, showering the clouds with sparkling colors: jade, green and purple streaks. The cloud cover seemed to part for a moment and the light ascended to a point in the far sky, illuminating the slowly disappearing moon, bathing it with tremors of silver.

"It's beautiful," I murmured, a peace transcending to fill my bruised heart, engulfing it with an unimaginable serenity. "You are watching out for me, aren't you, God?" I asked quietly, reluctant to share my observation with my guardian, and the edges of my mouth turned up in a crack of a smile.

"Sam, you alright?" Spencer asked me, perturbed by my slightly pale expression, "You look kind of tired."

I yawned then, realizing the truth of his question, glad that he'd given me a super easy way out of this situation. In reality I hadn't slept since the night before my death, which was….two weeks ago, I realized with a slight snort. It wasn't that I didn't trust Spencer at all – because I think I trust him more than almost everyone, save Carly – it just didn't seem like the right time to share my casual viewings. They wouldn't mean anything to the male beside me.

"Yeah, I think I'll crash for awhile," I muttered almost inaudibly, my eyelids fluttering closed as I drifted slowly off to dreamland. Just before I let go of reality I heard Spencer begin humming a very familiar tune, a haunting melody.

_We avoid the topics,_

_We make the kids have secrets_

_And when they are exposed,_

_And everyone else knows;_

_We'll say we never knew it,_

_That they had a problem,_

_And if we would have known,_

_We surely would have solved it;_

_But we can't,_

_It's too late,_

_But we can't,_

_It's too late…_

_::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::_

Freddie paced in the hallway outside of Carly's room, unable to stand looking into the unconscious face of his friend any longer. His hands trembled with fatigue – he hadn't slept for the past three days; he'd been too busy closely watching the brunette girl as she slumbered – and fear. Carly's heartbeat had slowly begun to decline over the past hour, skipping now at a forty-four pulse and at first, the nurses had swarmed around her, struggling to save the girl's life. Now the room sat desolate.

"Mr. Benson," the doctor greeted him quietly and the two men shook hands, grim expressions adorning both their faces.

"Is she…." Freddie couldn't force the words out past his throat. A huge lump was beginning to form, blocking out any form of reason and it was all he could do not to smash the doctor's head in. If Carly was…God he couldn't even think the word, he didn't know what the heck he would do. He shivered.

"No," the surgeon shook his head, but the abyss in his dark pools said it all. _She should be dead and we shouldn't have to deal with this. Why the hell is she still alive?_

"We would have thought…" The doctor cleared his throat, forcing a mask of professional detachment onto his facial features, "I mean, surprisingly, the patient has been holding on to life and we're not sure why."

"Can't you do an MRI or CAT scan or _something_?" The young man begged, desperation gleaming in his chocolate brown orbs. Sam had already run off and they couldn't find her; he couldn't bear to lose his only other friend now, not like this. The future without the two ladies by his side seemed affiliated with darkness, like a blind charter with no sense of direction.

The doctor sighed, sympathy rushing through him. He'd seen the awful faces of the remaining family members so many times before, but the horror of their pain never ceased to affect him and the staff. The utter hopelessness in their eyes….he shook off the thought, knowing that it wouldn't do any good. "There is nothing we can do, Mr. Benson. I am sorry." He stated in a dull monotone, running a hand through his curly black locks.

Freddie had to grip the wall to keep from falling over as his knees buckled underneath him. A metallic taste filled his mouth, a scent like copper in the air assailed him and he realized that he'd bitten the inside of his mouth hard enough to draw several drops of blood onto his tongue. He spat the red droplets out, disgusted. "There has to be something you can do to save her. Please, I'm begging you, she's all I have left," he pleaded hoarsely, the tears budding in his shattered gaze.

"I apologize how hard this is for you, sir," the doctor answered him, fighting to keep from comforting the crumbling man in front of him. _Just tell him and be done with it_, he told himself firmly. "All we can do is wait for her to die," he conceded in a flat tone. Without another glance at the man on the ground the doctor strode off, leaving Freddie to collapse into a ball, the tears staining his cheeks.

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A hand shaking my shoulder drew me away from the recesses of my dreams and I awoke reluctantly, batting away the picture of the luscious ham in my mind. Brushing the sleep from the corners of my eyes I drew a hand through my snarled blonde curls, raking them into submission, my beady, clouded gaze focused off into space. "Why did you wake me up?" I asked finally, my eyes narrowing as I questioned the man next to me as he pulled to a stop by the red traffic light.

"We're almost at the hospital," Spencer answered simply, meeting my inquisitive gaze, holding it until I couldn't stand looking at all the pain in his dark orbs. I dropped my face parallel to the seat cushion, tracing a random pattern in the giving midnight material.

"You alright, Sam?" Spencer asked, concerned, touching my kneecap in a conservative effort to help me. A moment passed and I bit my lip, stretching out my left hand to switch on the stereo, ignoring Spencer's grunt of annoyance. A familiar track began to play and I lost myself in the tune, blocking out the pain coursing through my heart.

_It's been years in the making,  
In my skin, I'm shaking from the cold,  
I am tired from the taking,  
And my heart won't stop breaking;  
And I know, I know,  
Moving forward,  
Can't be this hard._

"Are you scared?" I broke the silence a couple minutes later, averting my tear-filled eyes from him. I didn't finish the question, but Spencer understood what I was desperately denying myself. _Are you scared that we're too late to save her?  
_

"How can I not be?" He questioned in return, a frustrated sigh escaping from his lips. I waited for him to explain himself, the music working on our rugged emotions.

_I'm just tryin' to find out__,  
Who I am, on my own,  
I had you right beside me,  
Now your gone and I know.  
That when the room clears, I'm still here,  
Who am I when I'm alone?_

"Carly's my only sister," Spencer muttered a moment later and I heard the tremble in his bass tone, "And if she dies then I don't know what I'll do."

"You have me and Freddie," I whispered in what I hoped was a soothing tone. I'm not very good at the whole comforting thing, after all, I spent the majority of my few years building up a tough shell to hide behind. "You have Mrs. Benson and that random sergeant dude from the marines and .."

"They're not Carly!" Spencer suddenly bellowed, a tear slipping down the side of his face as he gazed furiously into my shocked oceanic orbs.

"Spencer…" I whispered, mortified, understanding that I shouldn't have asked him such a personal question.

He only shook his head and tension enveloped the space in between us, only temporary in residence, but suffocating at the same time.

_They say time is a healer__,  
It's more like a concealer for a scar,  
Cause it never really leaves us,  
It can always find us where we are, we are;  
Who thought, it could,  
Ever be so hard?_

I'm just tryin' to find out,  
Who I am, on my own,  
I had you right beside me,  
Now your gone and I know,  
That when the room clears, I'm still here,  
Who am I when I'm alone? Alone.

I shifted awkwardly in my seat, wriggling my butt for ultimate comfort. The light flashed green but Spencer's foot didn't leave the brake and vaguely, through the film of what had just occurred, I heard cars honking impatiently. One fat dude stuck his hand up and out the window, flipping us off and I gritted my teeth; in normal circumstances I would have ripped off his head but right now I was too damn stressed to take any major form of retaliation.

But, then again, a minor revenge wouldn't sabotage our precious minutes, I reckoned silently, rolling down the clear glass window on my side and sticking my head out of it, facing the car behind us. The man who'd flipped us off stuck out his tongue at me, rolling his eyes when I didn't budge an inch. "Stupid, crazy bitch," I heard him mutter as he lit a Camel cigarette, jamming it in between his tense lips and expelling a dark cloud in front of him.

I crossed my arms fiercely in front of my chest, thinking rapidly of an appropriate form of punishment for this jackass and I smirked like the Cheshire cat as I thought of the perfect one. One hand snaked into the pocket of my jeans, pulling out a neon green can of spray from the depths of the storage unit and I shook it a few times before unhooking the cap and spraying a tinge of the oozing material in the air for a test. The idiotic driver's eyes widened and another grey puff surrounded his bright red face as the vein in his beefy neck stood out and I laughed as my finger pressed down on the can, "Payback, loser."

A jet of green spray jutted out from the can, splashing all over the front of the truck, blinding the driver within. He gave out a strangled yell and then screamed at the top of his lungs as the fancy Mercedes behind him crashed right into his bumper, severing it instantly. "Psychotic chick!" I heard the man choke out in an enraged tone before his head thudded down onto the dashboard of his damaged vehicle, his still-lit cigarette jamming into the back of his throat, causing him to gag.

"Spencer!" I snapped and the driver started, slamming his foot down on the gas and the car rocketed forward. The air whooshed through the now open window, ruining my semi-presentable hair style and finally I pulled my torso back in, collapsing with a groan of contentment on the seat, "Pull over dude, I'm driving."

**Sorry, I keep extending this, but I'm trying to spice it up a little bit. I will end it when the time seems right, which will occur very soon, I promise.**


	19. Part Eighteen

Remember Me Part Twenty Five

**A/N: Hey, here's another one. Enjoy and review, please, I do work really hard on these. **

The young man's eyelids drooped slightly as he lounged back further into the stiff backed hospital chair, his hands twitching on the arm rests. A shudder flittered through his tense form as one of the many nurses in Carly's room let out a strangled exclamation; his best friend's heartbeat had decreased to a significantly low number and no matter what the hospital staff attempted, they couldn't raise her blood pressure.

One of his hands stretched up to pinch the lined skin of his forehead, harshly kneading the wrinkles from the smooth expanse. His vision blurred as the treacherous droplets raced fluently to fill his dry eyes, attempting to revitalize his once piercing gaze, but the fact that he hadn't slept in four days wasn't helping at this point. Red, jagged lines stretched across his tan wrists, recent marks from when he'd clawed at the thin membrane that hid his muscles from public view in a desperate attempt to relieve the emotional pain. But none of it helped.

"God, how can you do this to me, to Carly, to Sam, to everyone?" He cried under his breath as with trembling fingers he flipped open his phone, revealing a screen saver of the iCarly trio. Carly stood in the middle of them, her arms flung carelessly around her comrade's shoulders, an enigmatic smile lighting up her face. He stood to her right, a crooked grin forever marked on his flushed face; one arm remained cocked to the side while the free limb stretched around both ladies' shoulders in a protective gesture.

Finally, Sam remained to the left of the brunette beauty, mischief glinting in her oceanic orbs, a smirk playing on her lips as her right arm poked the tech boy in the side.

"What I wouldn't give for things to be like that again," he murmured softly, his mind skipping back to recollect the events of that particularily paranoid day.

_As soon as he knocked on the Shay's front door at precisely five pm his hands flittered all over his New York Yankees grey T-shirt, fixing the hem on the left side where it hung by his hip. He didn't really do it to impress Carly; a couple months ago he'd accepted the simple fact that they probably weren't meant to be together and really now he thought of her as a close sister, the non-annoying kind. Then again his brunette girl friend (non-dating of course) did tend to become a bit possessive as well as overtly anxious pretty much all the time. _

"_Freddie," Carly mumbled under her breath in a worried tone as she grasped his upper arm with her skinny fingers, tugging him with surprising strength inside her apartment. _

"_Ow," he dramatized, rubbing at his upper arm near his shoulder, throwing in a wince for good measure although it only slightly throbbed now. "Why'd you do that?" He questioned her in a loud tone, plugging his ears as Carly shushed him in a hiss through her teeth._

"_Quiet!" She demanded harshly, plopping down on the comfy living room couch, the squiggly seat patterns surrounding her tense form, "Sam's in a bad mood."_

"_Ah," he conceded in a soft tone, running a hand through his untidy, brown stalks of hair._

"_Is that Freddork I hear?" Sam yelled from upstairs and he assumed frankly that she was housed up in the iCarly studio, probably playing with his laptop again. "Did you…" he started only to be cut off._

"_I gave her your laptop," Carly confessed, wringing her hands together in a nervous habit, her face sweating bullets. _

_He frowned, lines appearing like little crevices on the skin of his forehead and he sighed, rolling his eyes in a temporary show of annoyance, "She'd better not break it."_

"_Who knows?" Carly shrugged, a pinched look on her heart shaped face, before continuing with, "But she had a jug of peanut butter with her when she went up so I wouldn't trust her."_

_Just as he let out an exasperated growl the blonde haired demon herself traipsed to the forefront of the stairs, a grin surrounded by puffs of gloppy peanut butter lighting up her face, "Hey Carls, I…" the smile instantly evaporated as she spotted him and her hands balled into monstrous fists. "You!" She snarled._

"_Yes me," he told her wryly, his hands planting firmly on his trim waistline, "You'd better have not got peanut butter on my…AHHH!" He screamed as Sam tackled him to the ground and his head gave out a muted thud that resonated around the whole apartment as it connected with the carpet._

"_Sam!" Carly scolded, attempting to pry her fair haired friend from his shaking form, "What did I say about tackling people?"_

"_What?" Sam chuckled, her stormy oceanic orbs flashing with disquiet, "The dork was aggravating me!"_

"_How?" He screeched from underneath her, my hands shoving at her abdomen, slowly prying her off of him._

"_You were born," Sam retorted dryly, yawning as though this was a simple, petty affair…_

A slight chuckle escaped his taut lips, skipping across the room like a fanatic banshee. Sam had calmed down slightly since then – well maybe, actually not so much – and although some part of him missed the way the three of them used to just click and argue all the time he appreciated the factor that his blonde haired friend didn't beat the heck out of him every day. Now it was more like once every other day.

"Well, well, if it isn't Freddie Benson," a familiar voice brushed past his harsh façade and a form slid off the opposing wall down the hall, revealing a girl donning sweats and a slim cut black tank-top. Her hair had been forcibly reined back into a semi-presentable ponytail, several strands looping around her face as she sauntered towards him, a grin stretching across her tanned face.

"Hey Valerie," he greeted her warmly, happily surprised to see her standing there, flanked by none other than Jonah and a fair haired beauty that he couldn't remember meeting before.

"You and Jonah still together?" He questioned her cautiously as his arms slid around her petite waist for a purely friendly hug, pulling her towards his chest.

"Yup," she answered him giddily, concern shadowing her bright brown eyes as she studied his expression. "What about you and Carls?"

He shook his head, attempting to portray nonchalance on the subject, "It didn't work out well."

"Sorry," she mumbled against his skin before pulling away, giggling as Jonah wrapped his burly grasp around her. She snuggled against her boyfriend, still watching Freddie closely.

"Something's wrong," she asserted in a confident tone that she'd always carried around, even when she was dating Freddie. He smirked to himself as he recalled that particularly dark period in time. Back then he'd been desperate, with his squeaky voice and nubbish outfits, to score a date and Valerie had seemed to be really into him. Unfortunately they'd soon discovered that she was only using Freddie to take over iCarly so she could be famous and he'd quickly dumped her. Valerie acted like she'd turned a whole 180 in life since then.

"Where's Carly and Sam?" Jonah asked him, real worry dripping off of every word. Jonah as well as his current girlfriend had both been immature jerks two years ago but over time they'd matured well. But Freddie couldn't help but feel a little protective of his two closest friends around their exes; it was a habit he couldn't seem to break.

Freddie hesitated before muttering, "Sam ran away two weeks ago."

Valerie let out a muffled shriek as her hands flew to cup her gaping mouth, "Oh my…I'm so sorry, Freddie. She hasn't come back yet?"

He shook his head despondently just as Jonah shot back, "No duh, Val. Would he look so upset if Sam had come back, huh?"

Valerie hit her beau on the shoulder, the slap resonating around the small space, "I wasn't asking you, Jonah."

Jonah snorted, "Oh, so was it rhetorical then?" He questioned her in playful tone, grasping her light fingers in his lengthy ones, prohibiting her from smacking him again.

Valerie rolled her eyes, "You're impossible." Turning her back on her boyfriend she addressed Freddie in a completely serious monotone, "Do you think she'll come back?"

He shrugged, replying dully, "Spencer suspects that she was kidnapped." He attempted to keep the rough emotion out of his tone and failed, the tears building up in the corners of his eyes, ready to gush out if he didn't contain them.

The honey-gold haired female interjected in a whisper, "I'm sorry." When she lifted her bowed head Freddie gasped as her silvery-blue gaze caught his, pulling him in as if transfixed. It looked as if thousands of dancing fireflies twirled around her pensive yet saddened orbs, flickering in even the dimmest light. He could barely manage to look away.

Valerie nodded, accepting the truth of his words, and then continued, "And Carly? Is she alright?" There was earth-shaking desperation in her dancing eyes that formed a bond between them; they both immensely worried about the brunette co-host of iCarly, he realized with a bit of satisfaction and appreciation.

"Dying," he whispered, the tears blinding his vision temporarily as he jerked his head in the direction of Carly's hospital room, the numbers 401 registering feebly in his mind.

He heard Valerie give out a shuddering exclamation as she fell back into Jonah's arms once more, craving the comfort and Jonah hummed in a worried tone, his eyelids flickering open and shut as he filtered through the information the tech producer had just given him.

Freddie started a little as a warm hand encircled his right one, threading their fingers through one another. He calmed down bit by bit as he realized that it was the fair haired girl, her silver orbs piercing through him to the core as she gazed questioningly at him. "I'm Moira," she amended as he folded his arms around her, pulling her into his body. She rested her head on his chest, beginning to hum a haunting melody, the vibrations of her moist, pink lips slightly tickling his skin.

He wished more than anything it was Sam he was holding right now but with Moira he felt a security that he hadn't experienced since the night his blonde haired demon had left. It was a puncturing relaxation that barely anyone could gift him and a thrum of butterflies stretched their lazy wings in his stomach, battering his abdomen from the thought. _You love Sam, _he reminded himself, inwardly grimacing as he realized that the words were useless now. He would never see Sam again and if this was the closest to love he could get then by God he was going to take the opportunity.

"Freddie?" Came the tremulous tone from down the hall and he sighed as he extracted himself from Moira's arms, his gaze zooming to rest on the small, well-built female standing with her hands on her hips. A proud yet harried glance from her oceanic orbs sent him wheeling and he had to grip the wall to keep from collapsing right there and then. Agony twisted his heart for the briefest second, sparkles dancing in his vision as he gazed up at the girl he thought he'd never see again.

_This is impossible, _he thought, choking out, "You?"

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Carly gasped as her feet nearly slipped through the clear glass of the bridge into the abyss beyond where there were horrible images of blood and hell, "Help!" Her paranoid eyes swiveled to meet the cold expression of Missy as she blocked the end of the bridge, her claw like nails digging into the shimmering material.

"Ready to give up yet?" Missy crowed, her eyes narrowing to slits, the green orbs glinting dangerously as she eyed the persistent iCarly co-host.

"No!" Carly shrieked, grasping for the slick surfaces all around her, "Let me off! PLEASE!"

"No, I don't think I will," Missy answered her calmly, taking one step onto the bridge as she prepared to push Carly off the other side….

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

I hustled down the hall, my blonde ringlets flinging around like crazy behind me like a junior higher pumped up with steroids. _God I hope I'm not too late, _was the single imminent thought present in my surprisingly pensive mind. Normally this would be the part in a freaking drama play or something the three of iCarly dorks would be sprawled out on the couch watching. Carly would be sniffling and shredding tissues to a little pile on her lap as she cried over the poor fortune over the couple in love while Fredward would be cringing in a little ball, probably complaining that if they had been wearing anti-bacterial underpants then everything would have been fine.

_And me?_ I wondered with a sly smirk appearing on my face as I zoomed around a corner, my tennis shoes squealing in complaint on the tiled floor. I would probably be raised on the balls of my feet, my knees jutting out as I smeared football paint under my eyes. During the sad parts I would laugh uproariously at the unfortunate characters and tease my two friends mercilessly over their sniveling practically the whole time. On top of that, I figured figuratively (what, I was too lazy to think of another word!) I would polish off a slab of juicy pork and chew on the bone until I could suck the marrow out.

But then again, I reflected morosely, this wasn't a movie, it was real life and it sure as hell sucked. Rushing past two sets of bland double doors I wished that I had brought my graffiti can with me; it wouldn't hurt to spice up the décor around here, now would it?

I forced my feet to stop moving suddenly, wobbling a little as the quick cease threw my equilibrium off. Blinking rapidly to restore my near flawless hand-eye coordination my gaze connected with the scene in front of me. Valerie and her current boyfriend Jonah were huddled together and she had her face buried deep into his shirt, while Freddie was holding a tiny, fair haired beauty, I unfortunately realized. I didn't like to think about Freddie snuggling with some other girl let alone view it with my own two eyes. _He's not yours to hold, _my conscience simpered and I gritted my teeth, hurt pooling in my destitute orbs, "Freddie?" My voice sounded small and weak, which I hated.

Freddie immediately stepped away from the other girl, his hands sliding out of hers as his gaze met mine, shock propelling his motions. Then, to my utter surprise, he fell to the floor, his eyes wide and unseeing as he curled up right there. For a moment his whole form trembled and I felt a tinge of guilt as I saw the utter hopelessness written all over his face. _His life must have been utter hell without Carly and I here, _I pondered reluctantly, treading over to him carefully, not wanting to startle him again.

Suddenly someone slammed into my side, nearly knocking me over as their dark brown hair flew into my face, obscuring my vision. "What the…" I growled as I spotted Valerie's concerned eyes beaming at me as she hugged me tighter, shaking me around a little bit, muttering, "You're alive…" over and over again.

"Yeah, yeah," I patted her shoulder awkwardly a few times, prying her off of me, "But you nearly just choked me to death." I winced as I touched a bulging bruise on the side of my neck and it throbbed painfully.

"Hey Sam," Jonah interjected quietly, holding out his arms while eyeing me superciliously and I only crossed my arms. When he and I had dated awhile back I thought that he was my everything and I truly trusted him. Apparently, however, he'd nearly cheated on me with Carly one afternoon in the studio when I was over watching my mom model her newest bikini. He'd broken my heart.

"Nub," I remarked stiffly, turning my back on him as my worried gaze cast down on Freddork. I was really glad that Valerie was dating Jonah now and it looked like they were totally in love, which made things that much less awkward. I didn't think that I would ever really trust Jonah again after what had happened.

"Hey," the honey-glazed haired girl greeted me, keeping her hands still by her side. I was glad that she didn't try to shake my hand or anything because I probably would have bitten her fingers off after seeing her and Freddie cuddling like a new couple. "I'm Moira," she introduced herself softly, so quiet that I could barely pick out the words. "You know," she remarked cautiously, keeping her gaze averted towards Fredlina on the floor, concern predominant in her silvery irises, "He couldn't stop talking about you."

"Really?" I asked in disbelief before I could stop myself. Biting the inside of my cheek I fell quiet, studying my shoelaces.

"I don't understand how you two aren't together," Moira whispered thickly, her tone smeared with pain she didn't want me to see.

"Perceptive," I handed her slowly and then my attention was totally diverted as Freddie mumbled almost incoherently, his voice a grand impersonation of a pile of mud on the side of the highway, "It's really you, isn't it?"

He rose to his feet and I nearly burst into tears as his arms encircled my lanky form and my head thudded down on his chest. _Stop acting like such a hopeless romantic, _my conscious interrupted our little moment and inwardly I groaned. It was becoming nearly impossible to act like I couldn't stand our little tech nerd, more so every day that I was alive. "Just me, MMA extraordinaire," I whispered, my voice muffled against his short sleeved shirt. My blurry gaze traced the numerous wrinkles on his skin and when my eyes met his chocolate brown ones my heart hammered in my chest. _What the hell is wrong with you, Sam! You'd better hope he didn't feel that, _I silently reproached myself, my cheeks heating up a dusty rose color.

Freddie studied me for a moment, one of his hands gently cupping my waist while his free fingers traced soft patterns on my back, which I allowed, the touches nearly rendering me breathless. "I thought you were dead," he admitted, agony rearing in his warm gaze as he pulled me closer up against his body, our chests and legs now touching.

"Me too," I muttered, hoping that he didn't catch my words, before a question came to mind. "Where's Carly?" I asked him in a frightened tone, berating myself for appearing so weak around the dork.

"In there," he motioned towards the door with the numbers 401 etched into the maple wood, allowing me to slide out of his tight grasp, the sinewy muscles of his arms retracting. "Do you…" he hesitated, choking on tears, before muttering, "Do you want to see her before she…d-dies?"

I could only nod. _God please, I can't be too late to save her life. _

**A/n: Hey guys, the last part will be next. I would have put it on this chapter, but there's a lot that has to go on and then this chapter would have been way too long, so that's my excuse. Not to mention that this took me a really, really long time to write. I've been dealing with minor writer's block, or lack of inspiration, you could call it. So please review and my desire for this story may return. **


	20. Part Nineteen

Remember Me Part Twenty Six

**A/n: Well, here it is ladies and gentleman, the last chapter of Remember Me. After this I will be uploading an epilogue and then a spoiler for the sequel to this story, so I hope you enjoy. Reviews lots to make me happy! **

Freddie let me over to the maple wood single door, his hand trailing nervously over the gold-sheen doorknob as he exhaled sharply. I could hear traces of stress radiating from his every release of carbon dioxide and guilt snagged my heart. _Since when did you turn into an emotional junkie, _my mind criticized roughly and I shooed the thought away, unable to deal with it right now.

Just as he was about to open Carly's hospital room door I felt a flash of panic overtake me and I shuddered, leaning against the adjacent wall, my back curling into the paint chipped solid. I hadn't really questioned going in to save my best friend even from the brink of death but now that I actually reflected on it I realized how scary the idea really was.

I'd watched Doctor G, the lady who performs autopsies on these moldy, stinky bodies, in most cases murder victims and the worry of Carly being anything like that send fear floating through me, irrational in essence but well founded at the same time. I mean, obviously, nobody is going to dare perform an autopsy on my best friend; I'll kick their ass of this earth if they try, but it still doesn't mean that the sight of Carly's still form won't unsettle me.

"Sam?" Freddenstein called my name quietly and his voice sent a rush of confidence through me. Just as my mind was about to spew some criticism on my newly founded feelings for the tech nerd I placed an imaginary plug on my conscience's mouth, prohibiting it from knocking my emotional status any more. _It's time I make a rational choice for once _I reminisced firmly, my fingernails digging tightly into the skin of my palms once more, allowing a tiny stream of translucent blood to rivet awkwardly down the underside of my wrist.

"I'm coming," I whispered half-heartedly and a tiny shock escalated from my heart through my arteries, veins and muscles, figuratively snuffing out the mortification of my own self doubt as Freddie's hand looped through mine. As our fingers slipped perfectly through each other I smirked up at the dork, my teeth glinting dimly in the late afternoon sunset.

Freddorlo's free hand twisted the doorknob and the rectangular door swung open, revealing little gouge marks on the opposing side of the wood. _Weird, _I thought, _it's almost like Carly tried to claw her way out of here. _The thought made me shiver and inwardly I tensed, finally comprehending how imminently stupid I was acting. _My best friend is in there and I have a chance to save her and I'm acting like a total idiot!_

Freddie squeezed my hand in a comforting gesture that I reluctantly returned but I averted my gaze, scoping the miniscule hospital room. The walls were painted a dull, pastel beige, supposedly a neutral, calming tone, but it only set me on edge; at least the walls weren't painted grey, however, it would remind me of juvy and that would drive me completely insane, I reflected. A single picture hung on the back wall – it was grayscale with a wolf randomly shrieking into the morning sky. _Well that's f*cked up and makes absolutely no sense. _

My attention diverted to the bed; it was a twin size, the posts were wrought iron and the support tops rounded on the four corners, the metal slowly rusting. Clean white sheets draped, slightly wrinkled, over a hump on the bed, two pillows supporting the patient's head, the striped pattern beginning to tear by the stitches. _This place feels like a funeral barge _I noted, watching clear fluid drip from a plastic container hooked to an elaborate beeping machine into a thin tube that connected to an IV on the brunette female's left wrist.

"Carly," I choked out, my hand tightening in Freddie's, and a grimace painted across my strained face, wrinkling up my once smooth forehead. I swear, with all the stupid crap I've had to deal with lately I'll probably turn prematurely grey, maybe even die at, like, thirty. Either that or I'll end up like my mom; she's not really a bad person, she just ended up with the short stick in life, kind of like being the worst player on a rug-bee team.

"I know," Freddie murmured as I pulled my hand hastily from his, stifling the blush that threatened to creep up my cheekbones. I moved as if in a dream towards the bed, one foot planting in front of the other, until I was aside Carly's slumbering form. My best friend tossed uneasily in sleep, her forehead coated with a sheen of sweat, her breathing labored. An occasional whimper passed through her blood stained lips. It looked like she'd bit the inside of her lips until she created shallow cuts, I realized, horrified.

"Didn't the doctors try to save her?" I demanded roughly, my hand sashaying through my snarled blonde ringlets, combing them into rigid formation.

"They said they did everything they could," Freddork replied wearily, his eyelids drooping with fatigue, I noticed with a smidge of sympathy, unusual for my normally conceited self. "We have to let her go, Sam." He tried to take my hand again but I pulled away so fast that I almost fell over backwards; refusing to meet what I knew was hurt and disbelief in his chocolate brown pools I turned back to my best friend, slipping my trembling fingers over her cold ones.

"No, we don't," I insisted stubbornly. _Nevel said I could save her; what the hell am I supposed to do?_

"Sam," Freddie solicited in his soothing tone that irritates the hell out of me, trying to pull me towards the door, "Come on, let's go."

"No!" I yelled, shoving him off me. He fell to the floor, stunned, his confused brown orbs meeting my high-strung gaze. "I can save her!" I continued screaming at him, the tears building up numerously in the back of my eyelids.

"You can't," The dork insisted, getting to his feet. I stomped up to him, the tears shining in my oceanic eyes and I saw his rationality and brusqueness soften as he watched me break apart right in front of him.

"I can save her," I whispered more to myself than anything, forcing back the torrent of tears that would definitely label me weak for the rest of eternity. "You have to believe me, Freddie." I used his normal name, attempting to portray how truly serious I was acting.

"I want to believe you," he asserted, still in that I'm-being-rational-crap tone, his hands landing on my shoulders as I swayed a little, feeling suddenly dizzy. "But the doctors said she's too far gone. Her brain stem is dead and she's been in a coma for days now. I'm sorry," he told me cautiously, using one of his hands to trap the solitary tear that had slipped down my right cheek. _Damn it, now he thinks I'm some sort of girly-girl, crying all over him. _

I visibly deflated, sinking into his strong grasp for just a moment as I regained my sense of composure. "Can I be alone with her for a minute?" I asked him quietly, burying my head into his T-shirt that read _**Bananas are for throwing**__. _Freddork nodded into my hair, placing a soft kiss on the crown of my head before pulling away from me. My scalp felt tingly from the kiss but I mentally brushed it away, needing to deal with Carly first. Flashing me a sad, regretful smile he disappeared out into the hallway, leaving me alone with my best friend.

"Nevel," I murmured in a defeated tone, falling into the chair by Carly's bed, taking her still hand once more, stroking it with the pad of my thumb. "Nevel, please help me, I don't know what to do."

I don't know what the hell I was expecting but it certainly wasn't that Nevel would actually appear in the middle of the room, his snow-white wings fluttering behind him like butterflies emerging from their cocoon. "Wow, you actually didn't insult me," he noted dryly, a sardonic smirk twisting up the corners of his mouth.

"Do you want me to insult you, Papperman?" I teased, falling back into our old regimen.

"Preferably not," he recalled in all seriousness, brushing off a dust bunny from his shoulder, wincing as he wrinkled his plaid vest. I fought to keep from hurling all over him and the thought of doing that made me smile deviously. Some things never change, I noted, humor written all over my face as I got to my feet, swishing around some saliva in my mouth.

"Samantha, what are you…AHHHH!" Nevel shrieked, writhing in mid-air, his wings beating like crazy as my spit wad landed smack dab in the middle of his stupid shirt.

"That's what you get for calling me that," I told him, mischief dancing in my blue gaze, battling the hopelessness that had been burrowing for the past couple weeks.

"You know," he complained assiduously, returning to stand on his two feet, glaring daggers at my face, "I could choose to fly away and not help you, you know that, Puckett?"

At those words the mirth instantly died from my face and I pleaded, my tone thick, "You can't leave me here alone. Please, help me save her, please!"

Papperman's expression grew thoughtful and he paced back and forth in front of me, eyeing me pensively, his hand stroking the two hairs on his pointed chin. "You really have changed," he noted finally.

"No duh," I complained, "Thanks, Mr. Obvious."

Nevel rolled his eyes over-dramatically at me and then paused as Carly coughed roughly, the sound choked and cluttered, "She doesn't have much time left. Minutes I would say," he remarked slowly, flashing me another quick glance.

"I have to save her," I whispered, wrapping my arms loosely about my shrunken form, shuddering instinctively as though the temperature in the room had suddenly dropped. "What do I do?" I questioned him hoarsely, my destitute gaze begging him for answers.

"Go into her mind and battle the darkness of her dreams," Nevel told me almost immediately, motioning towards Carly's tense, frozen body.

"Wait, what?" I cried, utterly clueless.

"Touch her hands and go into her mind," Nevel told me, beginning to fade into his in between stage, sympathy glinting in his arrogant, proud gaze.

Before I could say anything he slipped away to a place when time is insignificant and I was left gazing at my hands, feeling totally stupid. "What is this supposed to be," I exclaimed, my tone almost humorous, "Some stupid Vampire Academy concept where I'm Rose Hathaway? I don't have a f*cking shadow kissed bond; I can't read Carly's mind!" I attempted to convince the invisible God around me, somehow wondering if he was up in Heaven laughing at me for acting like this.

A tiny part of my mind wondered if Nevel could be telling me the truth; there didn't seem to be another option, I flexed, unwilling to forgo my supposedly great human wisdom. _Wait, I'm not wise, so that doesn't apply._

"I feel like a moron," I sort-of-crooned to no one in particular as I knelt on the top of the bed skirt, reaching over until I was practically keeling on Carly's feet, my hands grasping her chilled one's tightly. I had the urge to close my eyes, maybe it would connect me closer with my best friend's mind and so, squeezing my eyelids tightly shut I let out a slow breath, relaxing first my toes and then my calves, finishing with my head.

Then I began my breathing exercises, inhaling deeply to fully fill every crevice of my lungs before flattening them with a whoosh of exhaled carbon dioxide. I repeated the process several times until there was no longer any strain left in my entire body. Finally, when I could not stall any longer for fear of Carly dying, I delved into my mind entirely, and my lips muttered a phrase that I couldn't have recognized or normally spoke, "Wyrd brisya."

I suddenly had the weird feeling of sinking into the Deep Palmar Arterial Arch artery leading out of Carly's pinky finger, up her arm into her brachial artery, through her Axillary artery and into the heart. I gasped as I flew up the Jugular Vein, clinging onto one of Lissa's blood vessels, the weird material shifting like goo under my hands. The blood flow carried me rapidly up into the Facial Vain and finally into the brain itself.

I grunted with disgust as I was slammed into her Frontal Lobe, springing off the edge of the squishy material like a bouncy ball. When I finally stopped flying around like a stray parasail my feet carried me reluctantly over to the brain my eyes flickered expertly over the squiggly surface, tracing any signs of disposition or malice. And that's when I saw it. _Oh shit. _

There was a glowing green substance emitting in a ghoulish light from the middle of the lobe and I shivered as it floated by me. The tangible substance was coated with malice and it made me shiver, the tremors rocking my whole form for a moment. _I'd bet a thousand bucks that Missy is behind this, _I thought, recalling the different detriments that a traumatized Frontal Lobe caused: _Loss of simple movement _(_Paralysis), Inability to plan a sequence of simple tasks (Sequencing), Loss of interaction with others (Perseveration), Inability to focus (Attending), mood changes (Emotionally Labile) and inability to express language (Broca's Aphasia). Wow, how the hell did I just remember all that?_

And that's when I figured out what I had to do, well, an optional outline, that is. I had to take the green substance out of Carly, no matter what it might do to me. It was killing her and turning her into a shadow of her former self and I couldn't let her have it. _Wow, now I really sound like Rose Hathaway. But I'm not a frickin' vampire!_

And without even thinking about it (hey, just because I can memorize and recite the functions and detriments of the Frontal Lobe doesn't mean I'm wise) I touched the brain again, closed my eyes and pictured a memory of Carly back when she was healthy and dating her bad boy Griffin.

_**Sam? **_A familiar voice chimed unsteadily, a shift of desperation floating along the warm tone.

_Hey Carls, _I thought wryly, tuning into her center of vision and blending right into her consciousness until we were nearly indistinguishable. As my best friend blinked, clearing her panic-smeared vision I let out an involuntary gasp; she was standing on a shimmery, glass bridge, clouds moseying along serenely below her. On one side of the bridge there was a little ticket booth with magenta walls and a ticket machine; a man with a receding hair line waved to us as we stood there, indecisive on which way to go, and waved a golden ticket up in the air, the sun making the shiny material glitter mysteriously. For just a minute I wondered why the hell she wasn't traversing along past the ticket booth; just beyond that waypoint I could see rolling, green hills with sprouting rainbow flowers. A waterfall crashed into a barrage of speckled rocks to the north-west, the river winding along the perfect valley. _It's heaven, _I realized suddenly, tuning back into Carly as she glanced fearfully the other direction. And that's when I saw what the green madness was transforming into.

A hologram-ish Missy Robinson crouched on the far end of the bridge, the path that led back to the hospital where I sat attempting to save her, where Freddie, Valerie, Jonah and that stupid slut who tried kissing up to my tech nerd paced, worried half to death. But Missy wasn't a hologram – not really, anyways. I noted her blood encrusted nails digging into the glass handrails on either side of her, heard her fluctuating heartbeat all the way from over here and grimaced as her murderous jade orbs glinted with malice.

**Sam, what do I do? **Carly's brain questioned tremulously and I began to hurriedly think of one of many devious schemes I had come up with in the past. But then again, in the past I never had to deal with something like this. _Just stay cool, Puckett, don't act like such a whiny-baby, _I scolded myself before answering Carly's request.

_I'm thinking of something, just hold on. _I told her, and that's when the light bulb went off over my head. It was definitely crude and had a very scarce chance of actually working but it was the only possibility that I could summon to mind right now.

_Carls, you get to do the punching for once, _I thought grimly, mentally plugging my ears as she gasped in shock before shrieking in my head.

**What the….! There is no POSSIBLE WAY! NO!**

_Do you want to die?_

**No, but…**

_This is the only thing I can think of that might work._

**Might?**

_Yes might, now stop. I know you don't like fighting, but…_

**This is your arena, Sam, not mine! I'll screw up and we'll both die. **

I had already contemplated the alternative to fighting Missy and succeeding and the thought made me shudder with disquiet. Since I was in Carly's head and her brain would die then I would perish with her.

_I know, but I believe that you can do this. _

**Well I don't!**

_Do you trust me?_

**Yes, but…**

_Carly, do you trust me?_

**(sigh) Yes.**

_Then let's do this._

**Wait!**

_Wait, what?_

**I got an idea.**

_Well?_

**Do you think you could push your consciousness out of my head so that you form a material thing?**

_What do you mean?_

**I think that something is creating this Missy creature, but she's not totally real. I can feel it. **

_So you're saying that I could be like her, at least temporarily? Hmm, not bad._

**I would have to push you out, though. You couldn't do it. **

_Why the hell not?_

**Because you're in **my **head and so I can control you right now, I think. **

_Worth a try. Go on, zap me to be like her already. _

**I'm scared for you, Sam. **

_Eh, I'll be fine. I'm a Puckett, kid, I'm tough. _I didn't know why I lied to her like that but with only two options available to us I was willing to do whatever it took. Besides, I would rather die and save my best friend's life than let us both die in this hellish mirage.

**Fine, here goes. **

I had the oddest sensation of floating away from whatever was left in my body. Then again I didn't know if my body was actually stuck in Carly's head of if that was a semi-hologram that I had created when I'd zoomed up my beta's arteries and veins to deal with this haphazard mess, which would mean that my actual body was crouched over, probably going numb on the bed skirt in the hospital room. What a mess, I concluded, wiping a bit of sweat off my forehead just as a jerking sensation rocketed through Carly's mind and I hit the glass surface of the bridge, notching a little crack into the clear material. _Damn, that hurt. _

**Sorry, I tried not to hurt you, **Carly's thoughts soothed my irritated temper and the brunette's eyes flashed to meet my strained gaze. My best friend exhaled sharply before flinging her arms around my beefy neck, nearly squeezing the life out of me as she let out an exalted cry. I felt smooth droplets trickling down the skin of my collarbone and I realized that Carly was crying, the tears squeezing reluctantly out of the corners of her eyelids. "I missed you so much," she sobbed, barely coherent, squishing her body into my stiff embrace.

"Missed you too," I whispered slowly, extricating myself bit by bit, before shielding my best friend behind my warding gesture. "Let me deal with this." I wanted so bad to just stand there and hug my best friend and cry and tell her that life had been utter chaos without her but now was not the time. My brunette comrade was already losing the color from her pallid cheeks and I had to hurry the hell up if I wanted to save our asses.

My hands curled into tight fists as I advanced threateningly towards Missy, anger and sorrow radiating from my contained form. Anger because this beast of a girl had nearly ruined my whole existence and sadness because I knew that I wouldn't likely come out of this breathing, alive. "Let us go," I choked out, enraged, as the huntress took a tiny sequence of steps in my direction, her fingers furling and unfurling with antagonism.

"Make me," the red haired demon snarled, bitter derision hanging off of every word.

Behind me Carly slumped to the ground, her body curving in on itself as she vomited a stream of blood, the sticky red substance sticking to her blasé white blouse. Her stormy brown eyes rolled back into the rear of her head and she let out a heart-wrenching whimper of agony.

"She doesn't have much time left," Missy crooned and the red haze swept over my vision. It was one thing to insult me and my parentage and everything else about my crappy life but to insult Carly; well that was just way past _too far. Here goes nothing, _I thought grimly before leaping at my adversary, a battle yell escaping my shivering red lips.

My fist shot out and connected right with the bulge of her nose. A sharp _crack _resonated around our two struggling forms and Missy let out a strangled cry as blood spurted sluggishly out of what I assumed was her broken nose. "Bitch," she spat, her tongue darting out to caress her red-stained mouth, swiping the worst of the splotches and disfigurations from her pale face.

We writhed on the stone hard grass and I hissed as from underneath me Missy's clawed fingers slashed open the skin of my ankle, releasing a tiny stream of fresh blood that smelled metallic. "Just give the hell up!" I roared, gripping her wrists so tightly that the bone punctured the skin and the white surface crept through the torn muscles.

"NO!" She screamed, managing to serpentine so that she was on top of my thrashing form and with a cry of rage she kicked her foot right at my ankle. A rush of pain blotted out any form of rational thinking and a yell of pain escaped my tightly clenched teeth as my foot flopped in an unnatural direction. _God damn it, that bitch just broke my ankle._

After a moment I scrambled back on top, using my full body weight to slam her down on the ground, crushing the breath out of her lungs. As she gasped for fresh oxygen my arm shot around, coming to pin against the trembling skin of her neck, pressing just hard enough to cause discomfort. As Missy grimaced, her green orbs shimmering with disgust and furiousness I glanced wistfully down at her, my blonde ringlets nearly obscuring my peculiar facial expression.

_Goodbye, Carls, _I thought sadly, turning on the full power of my conniving tone, whispering in a strangely gentle voice, "Give it to me."

"Give what to you?" Missy snarled, a feral roar erupting from her petite form as she continued to move around, attempting to break my iron-tough grasp, to no avail.

"The madness," I told her calmly, while inside my emotions raged like a violent hurricane taking out the Dominican Republic.

Missy's face contorted oddly and for a moment she almost look conflicted, stuck between a crossroads, "I…I can't let go of it," she muttered almost inaudibly, a look of reluctant terror replacing most of harsh, cold, evil side to her.

I didn't say anything, only pressing down harder on her neck, my gaze boring intently into hers. It was all coming down to this moment. Carly lay on the bridge taking in her last breathes and in just a couple moments I would be too late to save her life. _C'mon, Missy, just give me the damn green madness junk already!_

Missy stopped struggling and just stared at me, shock plainly visible on her heart shaped face, her jaw working as she fought to find the right words. Finally, she murmured in disbelief, "You would actually do this for her?" She jutted her head towards Carly. "You would take your own life to save hers?"

I only nodded, a smile working its way up my face as I cocked my head slightly to the side. And then, everything shifted as Missy whispered, "Take it."

Carly took in her last breath just as the green madness slipped out of Missy, pulling Carly out of the dream and back into reality, her heartbeat quickly picking up to a normal pace. I flinched as the green madness slipped into my shell-shocked form, flinging me like a rag doll across the hospital room and an involuntary cry escaped my red-coated lips as my back slammed unceremoniously into the far wall. Everything began to spin and my eyelids drooped. All I could think was: _How am I still alive? I thought I would die. _

….I was vaguely aware of nurses and doctors rushing into the room to work over Carly's still form….

….I watched as Spencer, with tears streaming down his hollow cheeks, flung himself down on the chair by his little sister's side…

….I felt warm arms pick me up. It was an odd feeling, considering that nothing felt warm right now because it felt like there was no love left in the world…

… "Sleep, Sam," Freddie whispered as he sat down in a chair, cradling my feeble body and my eyelashes swooshed closed gratefully…

Some time later, it could have been minutes or hours or days, I wasn't sure, I woke up. All I knew was that someone, hopefully a female doctor or Valerie, had changed me from my comfortable jeans and a montage of several long and short sleeved shirts into a hospital gown. The back of the dress thingy opened slightly, revealing my dark black boys boxers with the words **I KICK ASS **on the rear. I yawned, my teeth falling flat against my pointed teeth as my gaze flickered over to rest on the bed, only to have my eyes widen dramatically.

Carly sat up; her brunette locks falling behind her like a luscious waterfall as she straightened her spine. Her lips worked as she tried to find the words to tell me something and I probed her cautiously with my oceanic orbs. Finally, she brushed her silky hand against my shrunken cheek and whispered in an awe stricken voice, "You saved me."

**Wow, longest chapter I have ever written in my whole life. Are you guys as sad as I am that there's only the epilogue left? Oh well, the story had to end sometime, but there will be a sequel so keep an eye out. Please review lots, this took me days to write. **


	21. Epilogue

Remember Me: Epilogue

**Well here it is, the epilogue to my favorite story ever. I'm going to see if I can get my friend to make a trailer for the sequel to this story. AngelDemon101 (sorry for using your YouTube name, I couldn't remember your fan fiction name) would you mind making a trailer? I could give you the back story and everything. The sequel will NOT, I repeat, NOT be coming out until I get 150 reviews total for this story. I think it's sitting at 139. I hope that's not too cruel, but I worked so hard to make this story a success. Now, read it, love it and review it, please. **

_**5 months later…**_

_The scent of burning sulfur attacked my nasal passages and I thrust myself out of the wrecked car, prying hastily at the shattered remains of the driver's window as my body wriggled free of the cramped enclosure. My paranoid gaze flickered around my surroundings, taking in the tall pine trees that were swaying in the tropical breeze, the waves crashing against the imposing cliffs off to the right and finally the tiny hut secluded up at the peak of the cliffs. I scarcely noticed as a trickle of blood traced a random pattern down my slender arm. _

_When I finally coaxed my weak legs to stand upright, wobbling like a freshly whipped jelly, confusion permeated my distress. Just a minute ago I had been speeding down the off-ramp away from the 5 South, past Santa Clarita, on my way to the Santa Monica beach. Annoyed at the amount of traffic I'd run a red light just as a dull red BMW rocketed through their green signal, smashing unceremoniously into my bumper. My fancy blue Mercedes had spun like a top for a few minutes, first denting and then wrecking the newly designed interior before coming to a rest right in front of the Valencia Edwards Theatre. Now somehow I'd been transported to the outskirts of a forest, near the ocean. _

Where the hell am I, _I wondered, my newly enhanced vision staring un-movingly at the cabin just up the steep incline. I contemplated if anyone would live there - probably a hermit if nothing else – before making my way cautiously up the barrage of rocks and grassy plains. Just a few feet in front of me sat the cabin, somehow managing to look mysterious in the fading sunset, the red light cloaking the clouds above my frozen form in a fiery brimstone mirage. The silence was unnerving. _

_And that's when I heard the whispers- they were barely audible and if not for the almost complete silence I wouldn't have detected them. I couldn't make out what syllables they – whoever they were – were muttering but I knew exactly where they were. The hut. _

_I crept closer and closer, my hand stretching out to plant on the worn wood of the front door. It already hung slightly ajar, a notice that chilled my blood to the core. The mutterings were louder now, rising and lowering in pitch at sporadic – or so it seemed – intervals. Taking in a courageous breath I brushed open the door, revealing…_

I was thrust from the dream with a little start, my eyes flying open to dart around cautiously. Sputtering, I brushed a couple stray strands of my impossible blonde locks away from my flushed face, taking in several gasps to regulate my breathing. My blue eyes wheeled around the space, taking in the flat screen TV and the oblong patterns on the couch under my butt. Lately I'd taken to sleeping at the Shay's; my mom is currently dating a dentist who wants to do an oral hygiene exam on me every time I leave the damn house. His name is Liam Melmon, and besides being the biggest dork on the planet he never ceases to remind me of the last dental checkup I had. I'd been so drugged up with loopy gas that I'd been laughing my guts out and thought my thumb was missing.

Blotting the beads of sweat from my now wrinkled forehead I let out a shuddering sigh, my legs curling up so that my head could rest on my bumpy knees. It had been several months since I'd saved Carly in the hospital and I'd quickly discovered that nobody remembered anything; they just all thought that I'd randomly run away, which isn't an impossibility, knowing mua. I mean, sure, it was easier not having to explain the supernatural but at the same time now everyone wants to look out for me like I'm some mentally insane, weak girl.

_You should be glad that all that drama is over and done with; _my mind repeatedly reminded me and another melancholy sigh escaped my pursed, faded red lips. Blisters still caked the inside of my mouth and they made drinking my daily cup of Joe quite difficult, if I do say so myself. I'd felt really strange since I'd sucked the green madness from Carly's brain and I thought that that might be the main excuse for why my moods were swinging like the pirate ship ride at Magic Mountain. It really was quite irritating, truthfully. One second I'd be laughing giddily about something totally somber and the next I'd be pummeling the crap out of Freddork. It was like I was pregnant - but obviously I'm not - times a million.

Since I'd been so unpredictable – more than usual, considering I used to beat the rap out of Freddie every other day or so, depending on my mood – Carly and Freddie had been avoiding me like I had suddenly obtained the Black Plague; normally I would allow this act to roll off my back but now it actually bothered me. My lithe fingers combed through my dirty blonde hair, weeding out a few pieces of ham that I devoured last week; at the thought of my favorite delectable meat treat my eyes widened and I bit my lip unconsciously, drawing a drop of misty red blood. I'd spilled my own blood so much during my now eighteen years that it no longer bothered me.

_Ham….hmm, I wonder if Carly bought some more? _My legs shot out in front of me, propelling me up shakily and I swayed, my head spinning with temporary vertigo. My brunette best friend had finished high school a year early as soon as she'd evacuated the hospital because of course she's a smarty pants. She now attended the local college where she hoped to obtain her AA before transferring to Westmont, a fancy private school up in Santa Barbara, California. Carly still lived here with Spencer, although she spent the majority of nights with her new boyfriend Austin, a nerdy film guy who she was totally and unconditionally in love with.

Freddlina surprisingly chose to stay at Ridgeway with obnoxious, old me, a decision that sent a reluctant smile tugging up the corners up my mouth. I didn't want to admit that he staying made me immensely happy, nor would I ever dare tell him that now. Two months ago he'd asked out that sleazy, honey-haired girl that Valerie had introduced him to in the hospital. I thought that her name was Malia, or Marissa, or something of the like, not like I care. _Moira, _my conscious impertinently responded, sending me to gritting my teeth in an agonized acceptance. I didn't know what the hell he saw in that push over, but then again, they're both doormats, so I guess that's one similarity. I guessed that if she made him happy then I could deal with it, sort of. She'd better not come near me though because I'll probably bite her head off her tiny shoulders.

Just as I took a leap towards the fridge, my feet making soft thumping noises against the carpet, a creak echoed from the stairs and my tense gaze flickered uneasily towards the shadow perched halfway up the landing. Exhaling sharply as I recognized the figure I made my way towards him, muttering, "'Sup, Fredweird, you can't sleep either?"

The nerd didn't say anything; he only traversed the small space in between us until merely a foot separated our bodies, a wave of heat slamming into the frigid air between us. My head tipped instinctively back, my lips pursing open as the heat rose up to light my cheeks figuratively on fire. I saw a glimmer of understanding appear in his warm, chocolate brown eyes as he studied me and I mumbled impatiently, "Well, say something, dork."

His hand brushed like satin against my inflamed cheek, brushing away the dusty color that hibernated within the skin. The caress sent my head spinning once more and my hands gripped at the front of his shirt, straining for balance. Blue met brown as his head lowered to my height, our breath mingling simultaneously as he whispered, "I remember." Then, before I could voice anything coherent his lips brushed sensually against mine.

The kiss seemed to last for thousands of light-years and a mere second at the same time before our heads parted and a choked sound emerged from my now moist lips, a sob that I'd been containing for such a long time. I knew that this was a gift from God, that He would allow Freddie to remember the most important time in our young lives, a gift that I understood would last only for the night. Once the nerd woke up, bunched up in his soft blue ducky covers his mind would be blank as a slate, having dreamed of Moira in the sleeping hours. The tears rushed to fill my eyes, blurring my strained vision as our fingers linked intimately as though they'd done the task many times before.

_I think I love you, _was what I wanted to say, but now was not the time or place. All I could whisper, the sound a breath in a storm, was, "I know."

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Across town, in a run down motel, a figure huddled, a black cloak obscuring their face as they glanced at the full moon through the cracked window. A stream of blood drew sluggishly across the floor, flowing incrementally away from the recently slain corpse of a young girl in the corner. The young child's eyes were frozen, shaded over in a glassy unseeing material, the unmoving glance terrified and confused. _Murder, _her silent lips seemed to whisper hauntingly, _I have been murdered. _

The cloaked figure's hood fell away slowly, revealing once luscious auburn hair, now faded and limp, and cold green orbs lanced with malice. The woman's unkempt fingernails scratched against the skin of her wrist, drawing more sticky red liquid, almost an attempt to release the burdened soul she carried forevermore.

"This isn't over," Missy Robinson hissed threateningly into the night, her mind focused on the bouncing figure of a now eighteen year old girl, her blonde ringlets framing her healthy, heart shaped face as she bounced in front of the camera. "Let the games begin, Sam Puckett, let the games begin." She laughed evilly, fading into the darkness in the back of the room, a gleam of the red demonic glaze encircling her eyes, commemorating her servitude to the Lord of Darkness: Satan.

_Let the games begin…_

**The End**

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**Can you believe that this story is actually over? I hope that I did the epilogue justice. I thought it came out pretty well, there are always some adjustments that could be made but I made you all wait long enough. Please review!**


	22. Sequel to Remember Me: Spoiler

**The Sequel to Remember Me: Spoiler**

"Carls," a soft voice crooned from the corner of the nearly desolate hall and I nearly jumped out of my stockings- that was figurative of course. I would never wear something as retarded as a stocking.

"What the hell are you doing here!" I yelled, the anger in my system beginning to boil as though I'd turned the temperature on my temper gauge up ten million notches. Carly's eyes widened slightly and her arms curled protectively around her small, thin shoulders, squeezing the skin tightly, her freshly manicured nails piercing the skin.

"I wanted to apologize to my dear friend, Carly Shay, of course," Missy Robinson explained in a sickly sweet tone, her murderous gaze sweeping over my like an icestorm, freezing me in mid explosion. "I didn't mean to hurt you, Carls," the red haired devil pleaded, her eyes as wide as snow white ping pong balls, "Someone threatened to kill me unless I did it."

My brunette cohort gasped, her hand flying to cover her agape mouth as I rolled my eyes, snarling, "Liar! Carls, don't believe this piece of shit!" I spat at Missy's feet, marching threateningly towards her, my knuckles knotting tighter like strips of tough bark. "Now, unless you want me to beat the crap out of you I suggest you run far, _far _away." I put special emphasis on the second far, my eyes narrowing to little slits on my face.

"Sam, how can you be so cruel?" Carly interjected, sympathetic tears shining in her dark brown orbs. "I believe her."

"What!" I screeched, glancing in disbelief at my best friend as Missy smirked victoriously, the message clear in her stormy glances. _You're dead meat, Puckett._

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Freddie let out a soft snore from the other side of the king sized bed, the covers slipping slightly down his nude frame, exposing a legacy of hickeys. I bit my lip as I curved into his back, my breasts pushing up against his warm skin as I let out a conflicted sigh, burying my head into his shoulder.

"What did I do last night?" I whispered, horrorstruck, as my gaze slipped underneath the navy blue covers, exposing our fully naked bodies.

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"Your time is up, Samantha," a very familiar voice crowed as the blonde haired woman pressed the edge of the ancient looking spear into my chest, her free hand clutching at the material of her midnight black hood, pulling it back inch by inch.

"You!" I hissed sharply, wincing as the tip of the blade pressed into my neck, grooving out a deep cut, the fresh blood gushing down my neck like a fountain.

**There you are, sorry it's short but I didn't want to give too much away. You'll learn the name soon :)**


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